Wither Into the Truth
by Calculated Artificiality
Summary: After Deacon learns that Maddie is his daughter in season 1, he doesn't drink. Instead, he must find other ways to deal with his anger - and ways to forgive Rayna for what she's done. (AU, obviously).
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: This story picks up right after Deacon learns that Maddie is his daughter in season 1. It creates an AU from there with no car accident involving Rayna (literally no car accident whatsoever… ever, at any point in time). Should be approximately 4 chapters to this one._

* * *

Deacon sat at the bar, the alcohol in the glass heavy in his hand. He could smell it, and it smelled _exactly_ like the night before his fifth trip to rehab. He brought it to his nose and inhaled sharply, feeling the burn in the back of his throat—he wanted to feel that burn going down his throat to settle in his stomach. He wanted to feel the heat spread from his stomach into the rest of his body, seep into his pores. He wanted to feel it take over his brain so he didn't have to think, so he didn't have to feel.

He brought it to his lips, closed his eyes, and started to lift it.

Thirteen _fucking_ years she'd been lying to him. Looking at him every day, _lying to him_. All that time he'd thought there was something between them, turns out the only thing that had been between them was a damn lie. And not just any lie, the kind of lie so big and so deep that when its revealed you wonder if you'll even be able to survive it.

Maddie was his. That sweet little girl he used to bounce on his knee in between sets when she wouldn't stop fussing was _his_ little girl, and he never even knew it, no one bothered to tell him. A thousand moments raced through his mind, and then memories he didn't even have started playing—a first birthday party, a scraped knee, a bouncy house just because, a bike without training wheels, washing dishes on a stepstool, playing with sudsy water at bath time.

He didn't have any of these memories because Rayna and Teddy had stolen them from him. The thought made him livid. He had a baby girl, but she wasn't a baby anymore—he'd missed out on that part.

His eyes were closed as he felt the liquor hit his lips, and he began to open his mouth to let it in when suddenly he saw Maddie's sweet face on his doorstep, screwed up in pain, tears running down her cheeks. He saw her wide eyes staring back at him from behind her big glasses, and he dropped the glass from his mouth, wiped his lips on his sleeve. He fought the urge to lick his lips— _just one taste_ to calm his nerves.

Deacon set the glass back down on the bar, his fingers still gripping it hard. He thought about Maddie getting hurt at that concert, how he stayed with her in the hospital holding her hand like her Uncle Deacon. He didn't get to hold her hand like her father because Rayna and Teddy had stolen that from him, too.

Deacon shook his head and clenched his teeth, realization dawning on him. Teddy was so damn in love with Rayna back then he'd have buried a body for her with no questions asked. So of _course_ he went along with it—he got to play father to Rayna's daughter, husband to her wife. No, the person who had done this to him, the person who had stolen his daughter from him was the only woman he'd ever loved. As much as he hated that smug bastard with his trust fund and stupid suits and ties, this wasn't Teddy's fault.

It was Rayna's fault. Rayna, who just last week stood on his porch and told him she loved him, that she had always loved him. Rayna, who just last week slid into his bed, let him slide into her over and over again until she came with his name on her lips, until he came with her name on his.

It was _Rayna's_ fucking fault, and that truth made him see red. Before he knew what he was doing, he roughly picked up the scotch glass, a bit of the liquid inside sloshing on his jacket and soaking in to the fabric. He wound his arm back and threw it hard against the back wall of the bar, right into the glass shelving that held the array of different liquors. Bottles of alcohol broke as glass smashed against glass and clattered to the floor, liquor slipping out, the antiseptic-like smell immediately overwhelming to the senses.

"Hey, what the _fuck_?" The old man behind the bar screamed at Deacon.

Deacon's gaze was hot and rage-filled, "Sorry." His voice was hard. He grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen and scribbled a number on it. "Call this number. Ask for Rayna. She'll pay for the damage." Deacon stood up from the bar, "She owes me one." He said. _Or a fucking thousand_.

He sat in his truck in the parking lot of the bar, trying to talk himself out of going back in and taking a drink. He started his truck up and backed out of the parking lot, driving down the dark road. He didn't know where he was going, but he was sure getting there fast—he drove past the first diner he ever took her to, remembering how they laughed over a shared slice of lemon meringue pie. The memory pissed him off. He shook his head; that was new.

Deacon wasn't surprised when he found himself rolling up to Rayna's gate, entering the password, and driving his truck up the drive. He shot out of his truck and knocked on the door, his fist falling heavy and hard. He wasn't sure who he was hoping would answer the door—Teddy he would probably beat the living shit out of, but if it was Rayna, he was afraid of what he would say—and of what he wouldn't say.

Rayna opened the door, and Deacon fixed her with an icy stare.

"Hey, we need to talk." He told her, his voice rough.

Rayna glanced back inside, then back at him, "Now's not really a good time, Deacon." Her voice was gentle but firm.

Deacon smirked, "Well, that's too fucking bad, Rayna, because _now wasn't a really good time_ for me to discover that you've been _lying_ to me for thirteen fucking years, so we need to talk."

Rayna stepped onto her porch and shut the door quietly behind her. When she got close to him, Deacon stepped away.

"You smell like booze." She observed, her voice a rough whisper.

"I didn't drink, Rayna." Deacon's voice was terse, "I held a glass in my hand for a fucking hour, but I didn't drink." He brought his hand up to his head and roughly ran it through his hair. "You owe a barman a couple hundred dollars by the way, so expect a phone call about that."

Rayna raised her eyebrows, but she didn't speak. She'd seen him like this enough to know that she couldn't cut his anger off at the pass.

Deacon's eyes were wild and full of rage when he looked at her. He raised his index finger, jutting it out at her, "You should have told me, Rayna." He brought his lips back from his teeth, trying not to cry, "You should have told me I have a little girl."

Rayna swallowed, "When?"

Deacon scoffed, "Yesterday. Last week. Last month. Last year. Her fourth birthday. When you found out you were _fucking pregnant_."

Rayna's voice was unsteady when she spoke, "You didn't even remember our night together, Deacon… I thought I was protecting her. I thought I was protecting you."

Deacon stepped towards her then, and Rayna stepped slightly back. "Oh, no. Don't do that, Rayna. Don't you _fucking_ do that. I can see it all over your face, you know what you done was wrong." Deacon let out a ragged breath and ran a hand down his face, "God, you would have never even told me, would you? You would have been in my bed tonight, screaming my name, _lying to me_ about my daughter."

Rayna felt herself flush as she shifted her gaze down to his shoes, unable to look him in the eye.

Deacon realized now why she'd seemed so off when they'd first rekindled things. "Look at me." Rayna's eyes snapped up to his, "Is that why you didn't tell me before you came crawling into my bed, Rayna? Because you knew I'd never touch you again if I knew?" Deacon sneered, "Or is it because you knew I'd never forgive you?" He narrowed his eyes at her, "Or both?"

Rayna had years of practice when it came to weathering his anger, but this time it felt different. This time it _was_ different. She deserved it this time. She felt her stomach in her throat, and she felt like she might not be able to breathe. He was, she knew, trying to hurt her. It worked.

Rayna's voice was quiet when she spoke, "Yes." Her voice was wobbly, but she spoke anyway, "I didn't tell you for all of those reasons. And for one more: because I love you."

Deacon flinched at her words, "You don't lie to the people you _love,_ Rayna."

Rayna let out a sad smile, "Really?" Her voice was so low he had to lean forward to hear it.

He knew she was thinking about every lie he ever told her when in the next breath he told her he loved her. But this was not her night to dig up the past and throw it back at him and she knew it.

He stared at her, the rage coming off him in palpable waves, "I'll never forgive you for keeping her from me, Rayna. _Not ever._ "

Rayna folded her arms over her chest and looked at him, "And I understand that Deacon, I get it, and you've made it very clear," She spoke evenly, not giving away any of the myriad of emotions coursing through her, "But this really isn't about you or me right now, this is about Maddie." She dropped her voice to a whisper, "And right now, she's in there very upset and hurt. I don't know what she's going to want from Teddy, from me, from you… from us."

Deacon dropped his head— _us._ He'd waited fourteen years for Rayna to use that word, and now here she was using it, and instead of happy he felt sick.

He nodded, the thought of Maddie calming his anger, "Okay." He brought his gaze up to meet her eyes, "Whatever Maddie wants from me, I'll give it to her." His meaning was clear—whatever _Maddie_ wants. _Not you_.

He spun on his heel and walked back to his truck. As he drove away, he glanced up at the porch, expecting Rayna to be back inside. Instead, she was watching him drive away, her arms wrapped around her stomach. He couldn't tell if she was crying, but she looked so different from the girl he first met. She looked like someone he didn't even know, someone he'd never even met.

As he fell asleep that night, for the first time he could remember he didn't think about Rayna. Only one thought repeated in his mind like a bright blinking banner: _I have a daughter._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: This story is turning out to be very dialogue-heavy; I don't really see a way around that, though, so hopefully it works._

* * *

The phone's shrill tone bleeped out from its perch on the nightstand, startling him from his reverie. He hadn't slept much the last few days, his mind chasing memories he couldn't possibly get back. Deacon grabbed his cell phone and looked at its screen. He saw Rayna's name and smiling face plastered across the front and he very seriously considered throwing the phone across the room, hard. Until he remembered his promise from three days ago to do whatever Maddie wanted him to do. Deciding that he would throw the phone if this were about anything _other_ than Maddie, he sat up in bed and jabbed his finger angrily on the 'accept call' button. Accepting her call was about the last thing in the world he wanted to do right now.

"What?" He growled into the phone.

Rayna was silent on the other end of the line for a beat, "Hey. It's me."

Deacon's voice was gruff, "Yeah, I know."

He heard Rayna draw in a shaky breath; she wasn't used to him talking to her like that. Even when they were dating and raging at one another, he never answered the phone like that when she called. Even if he was angry, he was never indifferent—he always had softness in his voice when he spoke to her, even under his anger. But she couldn't hear it now.

"Right." He could practically hear her chewing on her lip, "Listen… Maddie wants to ask us both some questions…"

Deacon sighed, throwing the covers from himself trying to sublimate his rage at hearing her voice, "Okay. I can meet with her somewhere, we can talk."

Rayna cleared her throat a bit, "No, Deacon… she wants _us_ to answer some questions for her… _together_."

Deacon cursed into the phone, "Well, I don't know if I'm ready for that, Rayna."

"I get that, but didn't you say you'd do whatever Maddie wanted?" At his silence, Rayna continued, "So can we come over to your place in a little bit?"

Deacon spoke through gritted teeth, "I don't want you in my house right now, Rayna."

Rayna sighed, her breath heavy through the line, "Then we'll sit on the damn porch, Deacon. Maddie wants this. Maddie _needs_ this. So we'll be there in about an hour, okay?"

Resigned, Deacon spit out the word, "Fine." He hung up. He'd never had much choice when it came to what Rayna wanted, anyway. _Obviously_.

He tossed his phone angrily onto the bed, watching it bounce once and then drop to the floor, clattering against the hardwood. He half hoped it had broken. "Oh, _now_ you're worried about what Maddie _needs_." Deacon said to his empty bedroom like Rayna was still on the phone listening, wishing he had said it when she was.

Little girls needed their fathers, didn't they? Their actual fathers who shared their blood. Little girls needed their fathers to teach them how the world works, to teach them how to ride a bike or kick a soccer ball, didn't they? Little girls needed their fathers to teach them that a boy who teases and hits them at school doesn't _actually_ have a crush on them because love never hits, didn't they? Little girls _need_ their fathers. As he stood up from his bed and pulled on his old blue jeans, he tried to shake the thought that came, whispering in his ear: _Sometimes they don't_. He pulled his t-shirt over his head, and the familiar voice continued: _Beverly sure didn't_. _Some little girls are better off_ without _their fathers._

When Deacon opened the door an hour later, Rayna was standing on his front porch by herself. He shot her a scathing look, "Where the hell is Maddie? I ain't doing this without her, Rayna." He said, his voice cold as he began to shut the door in her face.

Rayna put her hand out to stop the door from closing, her fingers bending against the wood as she stopped its motion, "Maddie's in the car." She nodded her head back to where the SUV was parked at his curb. "I wanted to get this—" She gestured to his face, contorted with disdain, "Out of the way before I bring my..." She trailed off, realizing the word she _should_ use now was 'our,' "Before I bring Maddie in here."

Deacon crossed his arms over his chest, but his expression changed a bit—it turned neutral instead of angry. "Fine."

Rayna turned around and gave a little wave to Maddie who was watching from the passenger seat of the SUV. Maddie made her way to the porch, and Deacon watched her—seeing her now with new eyes, seeing in her things he had never seen before, things he hadn't known to look for. Like how her gait was so familiar, her face so much like his grandmother's if he really considered it. He vaguely wondered how he hadn't seen it before, that this girl was his flesh and blood—he supposed he'd been too busy looking at Rayna, too busy watching her be a mother and a wife, too busy thinking about everything he'd lost.

When she got to the porch, she smiled at him gave a shy wave. "Hi, Deacon."

Deacon looked at her, "Hey, Maddie." He smiled, "Come on in." He opened the door wider, refusing to look at Rayna as he let them inside.

They walked into the house, and it was eerily quiet, like the weight of the last four days was hovering in every corner.

"Take a seat," Deacon waved his hand to the kitchen table. "Can I get you anything, Maddie? A glass of water, milk, juice?"

Maddie smiled a little, "Milk?"

Deacon pulled a glass down from the cupboard and opened the refrigerator, "Sure thing." He grabbed the milk and poured it into a glass. Walking over to Maddie and handing it to her, he slid into the chair next to her, across from Rayna.

Rayna didn't miss how he did not look at her, how he didn't offer her anything to drink. She shook her head lightly—she never imagined she'd be sitting in Deacon Claybourne's house without even the offer of some water. The message was clear.

Maddie wrapped her hands around the glass of milk and stared into it.

"Maddie," Rayna's voice was gentle, but there was a quality to it that Deacon couldn't quite place, "Did you have questions you wanted to ask us?"

Maddie shrugged, still looking in her milk, "I don't even really know what to ask."

Rayna reached across the table to touch Maddie's hand but thought better of it, instead bringing her hand back and folding it in her lap. "Ask whatever you want, sweetheart."

Maddie glanced at her mother, and then fixed her eyes on Deacon, "How long were you guys together?" She asked the question shyly.

Deacon cleared his throat, "Little over eleven years."

Maddie's eyes widened a little, "And you guys… loved each other?"

Deacon closed his eyes, pressed his lips together—he refused to look at Rayna, refused to watch her face no matter how much he wanted to. He nodded, "Yes."

Maddie looked at Rayna, waiting for an answer. Deacon kept his gaze trained on Maddie.

"Very much." Rayna's voice was barely a whisper.

"Why'd you guys break up?" Maddie asked, pushing her glasses up on her nose.

Rayna pressed her lips together, she'd never really known how to answer that question.

Deacon sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "That's…ah… that's a long story, maybe for a different time?" He shifted in his seat, feeling Rayna's eyes on him.

Maddie bit her lip and nodded, her eyes wide behind her glasses, "You really didn't know? You didn't even suspect?" Her voice was soft and it broke a little on the end of her question.

Deacon shook his head, "Maddie, I swear. I didn't know. I had no idea it was even… a possibility." He trailed his sentence off, not really wanting to walk down that path with his fourteen-year-old daughter. Not wanting to walk down that path with Rayna right now, either, as a matter of fact. He didn't want to think of the two of them together like that—he didn't know what emotions would surface if he did.

Maddie scoffed, "So _she_ lied to you too, just like she lied to everyone?" Maddie looked at Rayna with narrowed eyes, and then looked back to Deacon, her gaze softening, "How did you feel when you found out?"

Deacon shrugged a little, "I felt... a lot of different things, Maddie. But the only thing I felt that _you_ need to worry about is _happy_."

"Happy?" Maddie had tears in her eyes.

Deacon nodded, "Sure. The day before I found out, I didn't have a daughter. And now I do." Deacon reached out and grabbed Maddie's hand. He squeezed it a little before he let it go, "And _it's you_."

Maddie smiled a little, and then looked at her mom, "So, you're basically just a liar." She scowled.

Rayna pressed her eyes shut, taking a deep breath, "Maddie…" Rayna's voice was a warning, but Deacon heard that thing he couldn't put his finger on again lacing the word.

"Well, you _are_." Maddie turned to look at Deacon again, "Can I stay with you for a few hours? Maybe play some guitar, write a song or something?"

Before this all happened, Rayna had told him she'd given Maddie her old guitar to write out some of her feelings. He'd told Rayna it was a good idea—he didn't know then that the little girl would have so many complex feelings to sort through.

Deacon looked at Rayna for the first time since she had come into his house; he wasn't prepared for what he saw there. The pain ebbed from her—he'd recognize that look anywhere. He'd been the cause of it enough times that it was immediately apparent to him, even though he hadn't seen it that thick on her face in at least ten years. He steeled himself, but the raw pain etched into the face of the woman he'd spent over two decades loving took a bit of the edge out of his voice.

"Is that okay with you?" He asked Rayna, his voice even, "I can drop her off after." He tried hard to keep the venom out of his voice and he nearly succeeded.

Rayna cleared her throat and nodded, standing up from the chair. "Uh, sure." She stepped towards Maddie, but Maddie deliberately shied away. Rayna turned towards the door instead, leaving Maddie and Deacon sitting at the kitchen table, her footsteps quiet and sad as she walked.

As she pulled the door open, she turned to look at them, "Bye." She waved her hand and stepped out on to the porch. Thirty seconds after she closed the door behind her, Deacon realized what he'd heard in her voice at the kitchen table, what he'd heard in her voice just now as she quietly told them goodbye. He didn't recognize it because he hadn't heard in her voice in the entire time he'd known her, except once, right before she left him at that last treatment facility. It was defeat.

When Rayna's car door slammed shut, Maddie got up to watch her drive away through the window. She stood watching for a moment as Rayna's car turned the corner at the end of the block. When she was convinced her mom was really gone, she sat down heavily on the couch, hurling her body back into the cushions.

Maddie seethed, "I _hate_ my mom. I just couldn't spend one more second with her." She rolled her eyes, "No wonder my dad left her. No wonder he had an affair with that Peggy woman."

Deacon's jaw dropped slightly—Rayna hadn't told him that Teddy _actually_ had an affair with Peggy Kenter. He was still working out where Rayna fell now on his emotional spectrum, but wherever she fell, the idea of her husband cheating on her and her own daughter saying she hated her made his heart constrict.

"Hey, don't say that about your Mama." Deacon's voice was gentle as he sat down in the chair across from the couch and looked at her. "And having someone cheat on you is never a deserved punishment." Deacon looked down at the ground, memories from twenty years back hot on his trail.

Maddie looked at him, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. "How can you actually _defend_ her?"

Deacon held out his hands, "I'm not _defending_ her, exactly…"

Maddie scoffed in the way only new teenagers could, "Don't you _hate_ her, too?"

Deacon sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck. There was a time where he would have never even had to consider that question seriously. There was a time where the only word he thought he would ever use about Rayna Jaymes was some iteration of the word love if he could not, for some reason, use the word love. For the years she spent married to another man, that fact remained true. To say her name and hate in the same sentence was blasphemous. But, he thought about it now—he had to think about it now. He called her face to his mind, concentrated on the way his body tensed as he thought of her.

"No." He shook his head, his voice quiet. "I don't." He told his daughter the truth—and he couldn't tell if he was relieved or angry at himself for the answer.

Maddie sulked, "Well, you _should_."

Deacon felt the emotion crawl up his throat, "No," He whispered, "I shouldn't. And neither should you." He picked up his guitar, and motioned for Maddie to pick up his spare, "There ain't much I know, Maddie, but I've spent enough time hating things—myself, other people, my addictions—to know that it's a pretty useless emotion."

Maddie flipped the guitar up into her lap, "So, what? We should just _forgive_ her?"

Deacon shook his head, "I don't know. I really don't." He tossed her a pick from a jar on the coffee table, "But before we decide on anything, we can write a song about it." He winked at her, "Maybe that'll tell us."


	3. Chapter 3

Deacon had been a father for eight and a half weeks now. He shook his head, correcting himself; he'd technically been a father for thirteen years, he just had only known about it for eight and a half weeks. He kept trying to redefine that idea to himself, but it was hard to remember—he was only learning things now. He was just figuring out what his actual role was in this whole ordeal.

Maddie was angry—it went beyond typical moody teenager stuff, the kind of stuff he'd seen with Scarlett when she was a teenager. Maddie had all the right to be, of course, but sometimes it was hard walking on eggshells around a teenaged daughter you were just trying to get to know. Through no fault of his own he hadn't been there when she was little, not really, and he wondered if part of her resented him for that. It would, he thought, be hard not to—you're supposed to know your own child blind. And he hadn't.

He pulled into the parking lot of Langhorne Academy and sat in his truck for a few minutes, taking deep breaths as he prepared to enter the school. He tried to ignore the gravity of the situation, but he couldn't. This was the first time he was ever going to watch his daughter perform at a school event, perform anywhere—well, the first time he was going to watch her perform _knowing_ she was his daughter, and it felt like a big deal, like a big moment he hadn't even known he'd been waiting for.

Following the signs advertising the Talent Show to the auditorium, Deacon paused with his hand on the door—steeling himself, he pulled it open.

He was thoroughly unprepared for how many people were going to be there. It was a full house. Apparently, private school parents _really_ loved their talent shows. Deacon glanced around for a seat near the back, but they were all taken. There really wasn't even any standing room left, as spectators were huddled against the thick white bricked walls lining the auditorium. As his eyes searched the rows, he saw a hand waving to him from five rows back from the stage. He'd know that hand anywhere. He closed his eyes for a second and then opened them, trying to find anywhere else to sit or stand for the show. He briefly thought about sitting down in the middle of the aisle, but realized that Langhorne Academy—so unlike the poor public schools he'd grown up in—would probably deem that a fire hazard. He _really_ did not want to sit next to Rayna, but he also wanted a good seat to watch his daughter perform.

The second thing won out, and he made his way down the aisle to the fifth row, where Rayna had saved the aisle seat for him. He glanced next to her to see Teddy sitting there staring straight ahead looking annoyed and put upon, and he rolled his eyes.

"Hey," Rayna whispered, waving a little to him.

Deacon offered her a terse smile but no words as he slid into the seat, careful to balance himself precariously on the edge closest to the aisle so he wouldn't have to sit so close to her, taking great lengths to make sure his shoulder didn't brush against hers. She leaned over a bit and opened her mouth to speak to him, but the lights started to go down as she did, so she just handed him a program and leaned back into her seat— _thank god for small favors_ he thought to himself as the host walked on stage.

He'd done his best to avoid Rayna in the last two months, only talking to her about Maddie, and only when it was absolutely necessary. For her part, Rayna respected the distance he insisted on creating, which honestly surprised him. Rayna wasn't always the most patient person—it was one of the reasons she was so damn successful. She was stubborn and determined on top of slightly impatient, so he'd been very surprised when she'd given him space.

When he thought about it, it was probably the most space they'd ever had from one another in the history of their relationship. Even when they were on the outs, they had contact—he was in her band, or playing on her album, or calling her just to say hi and yell at her. It felt weird now, not seeing her, but whenever he thought about Rayna these days, her memory was colored with anger. He kept waiting for that to change, but it didn't. It faded a little bit, but the anger still burned brightly. It still _hurt_ if he was honest, all of it.

Deacon sat through several acts—a kid magician, a kid rapper, a kid stand-up comic who was actually pretty funny, a few kid singers, and one kid poet. Throughout the show, he felt Rayna actively trying to avoid looking at him, probably because he was actively trying to avoid looking at her. Things were tense between them, he felt it thick floating in the air—and not like it used to be, when it was the lust that bloomed in the spaces between them. This was different, harder.

About forty minutes in to the show, the host came on and announced Maddie and Daphne as the final act. A smile spread across Deacon's face and he clapped vigorously for the duo, the perfect closers for the show as far as he was concerned.

As the girls appeared on stage smiling brightly, Maddie took the microphone from the host and spoke into it.

"Hi, everyone." Maddie smiled, "This is a song I wrote with my…" She trailed off and turned a bright shade of red, "With someone who's very important to me." She finished, sliding the microphone into the stand and strumming the first notes of the song on her guitar.

Deacon watched as Maddie sang the song they'd written together over the past months—he watched as Daphne harmonized and sang the chorus with her. It was a good song, full of emotion. Since he suggested it that first day at his house, they'd spent weeks pouring every emotion they felt into the song, perfecting it, adding more as more emotions rose to the surface. It was how they'd been getting to know one another, speaking openly and honestly through a song about this thing that had been done to the both of them; they'd just finished it two days ago, and she was up there singing it on stage. Deacon was in awe of her. For the first time, he saw himself in her—not his mother, not his grandmother— _him_. And for the first time, he saw Rayna and himself reflected to him in Maddie. It was a revelation.

Since he'd found out about this, he spent a lot of time seeing her with new eyes, a lot of time considering that _he_ was a father—that _he_ was Maddie's father. He spent a lot of time thinking about the ways she maybe took after him, and the ways he prayed to God she didn't. But watching her up on that stage, singing that song, for the first time he thought about the fact that _he_ was Maddie's father, and _Rayna_ was her mother. They'd made a child together, and she was standing in front of him now half his and half Rayna's. He wasn't sure why he hadn't thought of it like that before—maybe because he'd been so reluctant to think about Rayna at all—but Maddie was there now on that stage as undeniable evidence of the love he and Rayna shared for one another. No matter what that love morphed into throughout the years, Maddie had been there, even if he didn't know it—a beacon, a prayer on the wind that all was not lost between them.

As Maddie strummed the final chord and sang the final note, Deacon turned his head to look at Rayna. She was sitting stock still, staring straight at the stage, and tears were cascading down her cheeks. She made no effort to wipe them away or stop their flow as the audience erupted into cheers and applause. Rayna brought her hands together, joining in a slower version of the applause, a small smile passing over her lips. Deacon had seen that look before—pride. Rayna was sad, but she was proud.

Deacon put his fingers in his mouth and gave a little whistle—Maddie looked at him and smiled before she turned to walk off stage. As the crowd began to murmur and the lights came back on, Deacon hurriedly slid out of his seat and rushed down the aisle. Part of him wanted to talk to Rayna, but a bigger part of him really didn't, so he made his way to the bathroom instead, managing to find one completely out of the fray. He was surprised to find it empty.

He stood at the sink after he washed his hands and splashed a bit of cool water over his face. As he grabbed a paper towel and dried his face, staring into the mirror, he saw Teddy Conrad enter the bathroom behind him. Teddy froze when he saw him.

Deacon watched him in the mirror, and he could tell Teddy was deciding whether to come into the bathroom or turn around and leave. Deacon watched as Teddy stuck his chin out and shrugged his shoulders back a bit before he stepped fully into the bathroom, his decision seemingly made.

Deacon smirked at him in the mirror, "Well, what a surprise." Deacon's voice was dripping with venom, "You're actually going to face something head-on for once instead of running away?" He let out a laugh, "Color me surprised."

Teddy stared at him, letting out a small laugh, "I've never run away from you, Deacon."

Deacon narrowed his eyes at him in the mirror. "No, you just stole my daughter from me." He threw the paper towel in the trashcan, "Among other things." He hadn't talked to Teddy alone since all of this happened, and he found himself seething.

Teddy adjusted the lapel of his suit and scoffed, "Maddie deserved better than you. Hell, they both did." Teddy narrowed his eyes and smiled but it didn't reach his eyes, "Rayna deserved a thousand times better than you."

Deacon raised his eyebrows and turned around to face Teddy, "This from a man who slipped his dick into another woman while he was _married_ to Rayna?"

Teddy blanched a little at Deacon's crassness, but Deacon just smirked. That had been his intent.

Attempting to recover, Teddy leaned forward into Deacon's personal space a bit, "Oh, come on, Deacon, we both know you're just jealous because you know where _my dick_ was for the last fourteen years."

Deacon clenched his fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white with the effort. He hadn't wanted to hit Teddy Conrad so badly in a very, very long time. The urge to punch him in the mouth every time he saw him had never really gone completely away, but tonight it was back full-force, and his arms shook with the effort of controlling it. Teddy's face on his fist would feel _so good_.

Deacon smirked, leaning into Teddy's face, "And we both know who she was thinking about all that time." He leaned forward, raising his eyebrows, "Tell me, did she ever _say my name_?"

Teddy clenched his jaw, his eyes flashing anger and something else—something that had Deacon grinning. Teddy shook his head and stepped back from Deacon. Staring at him for a moment, he sighed and moved to the urinal where he unzipped his fly, "Just stay out of my way, Deacon."

Deacon unclenched his fists and walked to the door. Pulling it open, he called over his shoulder, "Stay the hell out of mine, Teddy. Lord knows you've been in it for long as I can remember."

Deacon made his way back to the lobby and searched for Maddie. Judging by the sheer volume of parents milling about, the kids weren't released from backstage yet. Sidling up to a wall behind a trophy case, Deacon sighed. He kept his eyes down, hoping that not making eye contact with anyone would save him from forced conversation. He knew he was hiding—he wasn't used to hiding, but it's all he felt like doing lately.

He was counting the tiles on the floor when a pair of high heeled feet stepped in front of him. Just like her hand, he'd know those feet anywhere—after dragging his eyes up the greatest pair of legs he'd ever seen, and the greatest body he'd ever seen if he was being honest, he was face to face with Rayna. He smirked a little, slightly amused that no matter how mad at her he was, he could apparently never _not_ find her thoroughly attractive.

"Hey, thanks for being here." She said, nodding a little.

"Of course." Under his simple phrase was the undercurrent of everything: _I would have been here all along had I known_. He tried to quiet the voice that came up, the one that sounded like every nightmare from his childhood: _would you have?_

"Can we talk for a second?" She asked him, her tone soft.

Deacon wiped his hand across the back of his neck, "I don't really want to talk to you, Rayna."

Rayna gave him a small smile, folding her arms over her chest. He noticed she'd taken her eye makeup off, ruined from the crying he assumed. He noticed that most of her other makeup had come off along with it. He could see her face now, see the freckles dusting her nose, fanning themselves out over her cheeks. He liked her best that way, nothing between her face and the world. He'd always liked her best like that.

"I know. I just…" Rayna's voice was tired, "I just wanted to tell you that seeing you with Maddie these last few weeks, it's been a real pleasure."

Deacon shrugged, "Uh, thanks." He shifted his feet, still leaning against the wall.

She took a small step closer to him, careful not to invade his personal space, but getting close enough to him so no one around could listen in on their conversation. "Watching you be a father to Maddie is everything I ever wanted." Her voice was thick, and he knew she was trying not to cry.

Something about the way she said it tripped the rage inside of him, and he felt it bubbling up, "This is everything you ever wanted?"

She sighed; she was so tired of saying the wrong thing these days. To her daughter, to Deacon, to her soon-to-be ex-husband. "I just meant that…"

Deacon let out a breath, "I _know_ what you meant, Rayna." Deacon pushed himself up from the wall and stepped closer to her, "Let me ask you something. What if this was it, huh? What if being a father was the thing that finally got rid of my demons?"

Deacon saw Maddie and Daphne exit the backstage area with a group of their friends; they stood around talking and laughing, not ready to let the night go.

Rayna let out a small bitter laugh, "You think I didn't ask myself that every single day I was pregnant? Every single day after she was born?" Rayna pointed a finger towards Maddie, "But then I'd look at that little girl and think 'But what if it wasn't.' What if it _wasn't enough_?I didn't want her to grow up feeling anything other than loved."

Deacon threw his hands on his hips, "Well, mission accomplished, right? She feels _really_ loved right now, Rayna."

Rayna's eyes turned to fire, and her voice dropped, it was hard when she spoke, "I understand you're pissed, and I get why, but don't you _dare_ do that to me." She pointed her index finger at him, "Don't you _dare_ act like I haven't been a good mother to my daughter."

Deacon looked at her, the hurt underlying her rage dissipating some of his anger, " _Our_ daughter," He corrected, giving her a sad smile.

Maddie and Daphne walked up to them then, chatting a bit. Maddie gave Deacon a hug and then glanced at her mom. She turned back to Deacon. "Thanks for coming, Deacon."

Daphne leaned in to Rayna for a hug and Deacon watched as Rayna squeezed her youngest daughter tightly, closing her eyes a little and inhaling deeply. He saw relief on her face, and it made him curious.

"Wouldn't have missed it, Maddie." He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Rayna smiled, "You did such a good job tonight, sweet girls. I'm so proud of you. That was a beautiful song."

Daphne smiled, and Maddie ignored her.

Deacon nodded in agreement, "You girls were great."

Maddie smiled, "Thanks." She turned to Rayna—the smile slid off her face. "Mom, can I spend the night at Talia's tonight?" She sighed, "And _yes_ her mom is going to be home."

Daphne jumped up and down excitedly, "Ooh! And can I spend the night at Heidi's?"

Rayna smiled gently, reaching out to smooth her hand over Daphne's hair. "Yes to both."

Maddie and Daphne smiled—it was the first genuine smile Maddie had given Rayna all night—and then they went to find their friends.

"Love you!" Rayna called out to them.

Daphne turned around and smiled and waved. Maddie ignored her, heading straight for Talia.

Deacon watched as Rayna stared after them, and then she pressed her eyes shut. She turned her head to look at him, and when she opened her eyes, Deacon noticed how tired she looked.

"So," She said, shrugging her shoulders a bit, not sure where to start, "Where were we?" She snapped her fingers like she'd just remembered, "Oh, that's right, you were letting me know what a bad mother I am."

Ignoring her comment, Deacon shook his head, "Here's what I don't understand, Rayna. You've never had a problem with words. Never had a problem with saying exactly what you mean when exactly you mean it. So I'm just sitting here trying to figure out how in the hell in thirteen years you never managed to find the words to tell me I have a daughter."

Rayna sighed, "I wanted to tell you so many times, Deacon." Her eyes were glistening, the lobby lights reflecting off her tears, "Whenever I'd see you with her, it would be right there on the tip of my tongue. _Just tell him_ , I'd think." She pushed her hair back from her face, combing her fingers through it, "There were so many times I almost did."

Deacon smiled at her, but it was sad—his heart felt so heavy, and her words did nothing to make it lighter.

He let out a short breath through his nose and his voice was quiet when he spoke, weighed down by the secret, by the sadness he didn't even know he'd been carrying for over a decade, "Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades, Rayna." He shook his head as he brushed past her and slid out the side door of the auditorium, the night enveloping him in its quiet arms as he walked back to his truck.

* * *

 _A/N based on 2 reviews: Chapter count has been amended to 6 or 7. Just didn't mention it until now._


	4. Chapter 4

The emptiness of the house swells around her. She is alone. She hasn't been truly alone in what feels like a decade and a half. There was always someone milling about, always children laughing and giggling, always a husband to talk at her. She sits on the couch with her back pressed into the arm, an untouched glass of wine sitting on the coffee table. There is no one tonight.

She takes in the silence surrounding her—she's never minded silence the way some people do. There are those people who need some sort of sound at all times, no matter what. They need the constant hum of a television, the buzz of a fan, the static of a radio. It's almost like they can't bear to be alone with their own thoughts, alone with their own selves. Deacon had been like that when she first met him; but eventually, he had been able to sit in silence with her, and then he came to crave the silence with her. She loved that about them, how they grew together. He'd told her once that the rise and fall of her chest, the light inhale and exhale of her lungs was the only sound he would ever need to get away from himself.

But Rayna had never minded the silence—of course, she'd come to prefer the silences she shared with Deacon; the silences where she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, hear his breaths come and go. But it had never really bothered her, the stillness of the quiet. Until tonight. Tonight, it unnerves her. She thinks about reaching for the remote control, clicking it on to find some mindless reality monstrosity she can lose herself in. She laughs a little into the room, as though she hasn't lost enough of herself already.

If you had asked her twenty years ago, she would never have guessed she'd end up alone on her couch, craving reality TV to detach her from the life she'd created. She was about to be a divorcee, she had a daughter who hated her right now, a soon-to-be ex-husband who blamed her for everything blowing up in their faces, and another daughter who loved her still, but was angry. And then she had a… _friend_. A friend she'd lied to for the last thirteen years. One of the only friends she'd ever had, actually, and she didn't even know if she had that anymore.

She'd watched him in stolen glances tonight as he watched Maddie perform on stage—he looked proud. Overwhelmed, and a bit unsure, but proud. When Rayna had talked to him after the show, he vacillated somewhere between anger and sadness—she could see both etched on his face and it pained her. There was a time when she was the only person that could make that disappear. Now, she was the one who put it there in the first place.

 _Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades,_ he'd told her tonight. He'd made it very clear that's what he thinks she should have done: she should have blown everything right the hell up. When, exactly, was she supposed to pull the pin out of that one? Was she just supposed to toss it into the crowd of those she called family and loved ones and say _here, look at all the lives I've ruined?_ Even as she thinks it she knows the answer: _yes_.

She doesn't know how long she's been crying when she hears the knock at the door. It could have been minutes or hours, she's not sure—but she became immune to the sounds of her own sobs echoing through the living room. She wipes her face off as she makes her way to the door. She should look through the peephole, but she doesn't really care who it is, can't bring herself to.

When she pulls the door open, he is standing there on her porch. She feels her breath leave her lungs and she wonders if it's ever going to come back.

"Hey," She says on the breath as it leaves.

He's holding a stuffed brown dog in his hand, "Uh," He looks at her face and then looks away, like he can't bear to see her. She doesn't know this time if it is because of everything she's done to him or because of how her face must look now, battered from the crying, "Maddie left Mr. Wiggles at my house last night." He holds the dog out, "I know she's at Talia's tonight, but I know she can't sleep when she doesn't have it at home so… uh, here." He extends the dog further.

The dog looks at her, patches of its hair missing, bald spots peeking out under its fur. Rayna read an article once about dust mites that live in stuffed animals, and she knows she should throw it away, make Maddie give Mr. Wiggles up, but she _can't._ Rayna reaches out and grabs the stuffed animal, hugging it to herself. The plush is soft against her neck, and she inhales the scent—it smells like Maddie—and the tears come again.

"Thanks," She says, but her throat locks out most of the sound.

Deacon nods, "You're welcome."

She stands there for a minute, thinking of something she should say, but mostly just crying. Seeing Deacon on her porch has brought all the sorrow she's been trying to suppress right up to the surface. Holding Maddie's stuffed dog isn't helping matters.

Deacon still can't look at her, but he jams his hands in his pockets and stares at the welcome mat. "Bye." He mutters, and turns on her porch.

"Bye." She whispers, and then she shuts the door quietly, not sure if she can watch him walk away from her again right now.

Deacon gets halfway to his truck before he turns back around. He curses under his breath as he walks the steps back up to her porch. He has never been able to walk away from her when she was like that, so overwhelmed by sorrow—he's surprised and pleased to see that hasn't changed. Her tears still move him to action; he thinks that's a good sign.

Rayna's back is against the door when he knocks so softly this time that she's not sure she truly hears it. When she opens the door to check, though, he's there again; he's looking at her now and he steps inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. Rayna is still holding the dog, and he pulls her to him, looping his arms around her back, squishing the stuffed animal between them.

She grasps the dog with one hand and winds her other hand around his back, holding on, her fingers clutching at the back of his jacket. The feel of his body against hers causes the sobs to come full force again, and she's crying so hard she can't breathe.

Deacon just holds her—they stand still, fused together with the stuffed dog between them—until her sobs finally subside. When she takes a long shaky breath, he pulls away from her.

He looks at her gently for the first time in two months, and then his eyes get their edge back, "This doesn't mean everything is okay." He says, his voice quiet.

She nods, wiping her face, "I know." Her voice is a whisper.

She knows he is repaying the favor. How many times she had done the same thing for him, she couldn't even begin to count. She walks into the living room, and she feels his tentative steps behind her.

She sits down on the couch, setting the stuffed dog next to her, but doesn't look at him. "Are you ever going to talk to me?" She asks, her voice sounding a bit like broken china.

Deacon shrugs and lets out a long sigh, "I don't really think there's anything to say."

Rayna shakes her head, letting a little breath out in a half-laugh, "Oh, I think there's plenty to say."

Deacon rocks back on his heels a bit, fixing her with an icy glare, "So, say it."

Rayna feels the anger roll up in a wave, and she's so tired of feeling sad she allows it to take her. She stands and faces him, "You know what, Deacon, never mind. _Just go_. I'm trying to make it right. Or at least take a step towards making it right, and you're just shutting me down, shutting me out." Her voice is the loudest it's been in weeks, and she feels a specific comfort in stepping into her anger, especially after living in her sadness for so long.

Deacon shakes his head, meeting her anger with his, "You can't make it right, Rayna, unless you got a time machine you ain't told me about." His voice rises, "Short of going back to 1998 and telling me about my damn daughter, there's not a whole lot you _can_ do."

She sneers a bit to cover up the pain, "I wouldn't want to go back to 1998, even if I could." Underneath her palpable anger her voice is sad, broken.

He knows why she doesn't want to go back to 1998. He knows what he was like like back then; he knows what he'd done to her.

Deacon sighs and massages his fingertips into his temples, "So, tell me how it happened, then." He stares at her, "How did you end up pregnant with my child and walking down the aisle to meet another man?" His anger punctuates his words as he glares at her. When she doesn't immediately speak, he goads her, "You want to talk so bad, _talk_."

"What do you want me to say? I was pregnant." She says, "I wasn't sure who the father was—I was pretty sure, but not _sure_. And I was scared." She shrugs, "So, I married Teddy." That's not enough, and she knows it, but it's all the story she can give.

Deacon feels the rage settle into his stomach again, feels the white-hot emotion spread through his body at her oversimplification. After everything, that's how she explains it? He scoffs, "You _weren't sure_ who the father was?" He leans into his anger, embracing it like an old friend he hasn't seen in a while, and he can't control the words before they're out, "Guess Teddy didn't care that he was marrying a whore?"

Rayna takes a step back like he's slapped her—it feels like he has. She laughs a little, the sound bitter, and then she shakes her head, "Yeah, Deacon, that's exactly what I am. I'm 42 years old and I've only been with two men." She narrows her eyes at him, "I'm a real _whore_."

Deacon can hear the hurt underpinning her words and he immediately feels the guilt wash over him. He feels sick to his stomach as he realizes he can't reach out and grab the words, stuff them back down his throat. He's only talked like that to her a handful of times, mostly when he was drunk and trying to hurt her. He'd been trying to hurt her just now, and the realization horrifies him. He hasn't deliberately tried to hurt her in years. He opens his mouth to apologize, but she waves her hand at him and starts to speak again.

"Look, I get that you're mad and you want to lay all of this down on me, and I'm not saying you don't have that right, because you do. But if you think this is how I wanted things, you're wrong." Her voice is heavy, serious. She sighs, "I dreamed of a life with you Deacon. If I'm honest—" She looks at him, expecting another barb. When one doesn't come, she continues, "If I'm honest, I never stopped dreaming of it, even when I was married to someone else." She stares at him, "It's the only thing I ever wanted as much as music." A sad smile settles on her face, "Sometimes I even wanted it more than music. But you couldn't…"

He cuts her off, the rage simmering inside of him again, just edging out the guilt, "Do not put this on _me,_ Rayna."

"I'm _not_." She stares at him, "But you couldn't stay sober." Her voice is quiet, "I came to tell you." At his look, she nods. "I came to tell you that I was pregnant and it might be yours when you dipped out of rehab that last time; I brought Tandy up to the cabin, and I was going to tell you but…" She trails off, not wanting to tell him what she saw that afternoon, "She talked me out of it."

Deacon lets out a bitter laugh, "Don't blame your sister, Rayna."

Rayna shakes her head, "No, _I_ decided, in that moment. _I'm_ the one who decided. I saw you in that cabin— _my dream house_ —throwing everything, breaking everything we filled that life with. You were drunk out of your mind and I… I was scared. I wanted to be with you, Deacon, but more than anything I wanted to protect the life I had growing inside of me." Rayna feels the emotion swelling up, the sadness mixed with anger she had been trying to push down for thirteen years. They'd never talked about this. The anger took over, spoke for her, "You chose the bottle over me. You weren't there! You _weren't there_." She's screaming at him now, the way she used to when they would fight when he was drunk.

Her anger knocks the wind out of his sails, and looks at her, his voice thick, "You didn't give me the chance."

She shakes her head again, whipping it back and forth, whispering when she speaks, "I gave you so many chances, Deacon, so many chances in so many ways. I was _scared,_ okay? When the test came back positive I curled up in a ball and cried for three hours straight, I was so scared." She sighs, "Me, as a Mama? I didn't know how to be a Mama." She laughs, a bit bitterly, "Guess I still don't, huh? My own daughter can't even stand me."

He shifts his weight between his feet, unsure of what to say. She's right, and he knows she's right—Rayna had given him more chances than anyone in his life ever had, more chances than any one person deserved, he reckoned. But, even so, he can't absolve her of this yet. He hasn't reconciled it enough in his own heart and mind to absolve her for lying to him about this.

"Rayna… she's just..."

She waves a hand dismissively in front of her, "I get it. My own daughter hates me, Teddy hates me," Her eyes fill with tears, " _You_ hate me."

He lets out a heavy sigh, "I don't hate you, Rayna. I kind of wish I did, because that would make this whole thing easier." He runs a hand through his hair, "You kept my baby girl from me." His voice breaks on the phrase, and she snaps her head to look at him, "Did you even think about me at all when you did that? When you just gave her to another man to raise?" His eyes are searching hers, "When she called another man Daddy, did you think of me?"

Rayna's mouth falls open, unable to believe he can even ask that question. "You think there was a day that went by that I _didn't_ think of you? I think of you every time I look at my little girl. Every time she laughs or smiles or gets a little too angry, I think of you." She laughs a little, "That girl has a stubborn streak a mile wide; she always has. You think I didn't think of you every single time she fought me on something? Every time she wouldn't go down for a nap, wouldn't get in the bathtub, wouldn't brush her hair?" Her voice is sad, "You think I didn't think about you _every single day_ for thirteen years?"

Deacon feels suddenly overcome with sadness; if she could somehow prove to him that she _had_ thought of him during those years… if she could prove that she hadn't just given Maddie away to another man and pretended Deacon didn't exist in the world they built together, he thinks he could forgive her. He thinks it would be a balm to this gaping wound she's given him. But the truth is that she _can't_ prove that to him; not when she spent every single day lying to him, instead. So, he's not sure the wound can heal.

"I really don't know, Rayna." He shrugs, and heads towards the door, "I don't know what you thought about." He pulls the door open, and turns to give her a small smile, "I guess I'll never know."

As the door clicks into place, she turns the lock—unsure if she's keeping the world out or keeping herself in. She is alone again, and this time she thinks she deserves to be.


	5. Chapter 5

Deacon hadn't spoken to Rayna in three weeks, not about anything other than what time he would pick Maddie up or Rayna would drop her off for guitar lessons. They stayed out of each other's space in a way they never had before. The concept felt foreign to him, and he found himself missing the connection he still felt underneath it all, even underneath his anger. But his anger was still there, overpowering everything; it was tangled up with his sadness, and he couldn't seem to shake it. He was beginning to worry that he never would, that it would live between them like some unwelcome house-guest you never invited but always seemed to be around.

Maddie had been taking guitar lessons with him for a month now, and he was astonished at how good she was getting. She was a natural, and now he knew why.

They were mid-lesson when Maddie stopped playing and looked at him, her guitar propped in her lap. "You would have been there, right?" Her voice was quiet, barely concealed tears pooling behind her eyes, "If she'd told you?" She had a crease in her brow that he'd seen looking back at him a thousand times in days gone by. It was Rayna's.

Maddie had been really struggling again the past few weeks—she'd come to really enjoy spending time with Deacon, enjoyed learning guitar, seeing where she got her talent for playing. She felt so _mad_ that she'd been kept from this for the last thirteen years, that she was only getting to figure it out now.

When Deacon didn't answer, Maddie reached up to swipe a tear rolling down her cheek, "Wouldn't you have?"

Deacon thought about the question—it was one he'd been asking himself ever since he found out. As much as he wanted to answer it for her, and himself, with a resounding _yes_ , he couldn't quite get the voice of doubt out of his head. The voice that incessantly reminded him of exactly how many ways a man could let his family down. Sometimes, he knew, there were worse things than not being there. Sometimes, _being there_ was even worse. He didn't want to lie about a truth he wouldn't ever be able to know, not to his daughter, and surprisingly not to himself. Beyond that, he didn't want to give Maddie anything else to hold against Rayna—he could see that Maddie wanted to forgive her, but he could also see that she was still looking for reasons not to.

Deacon lifted his guitar up and propped it against the couch. He stared at Maddie, looking into her soft brown eyes, and he told her the only truth he knew: "I would have _tried_." He wondered if she would understand the implication, that trying doesn't always mean success.

He could tell that she understood when she took a shaky breath and nodded her head, "Okay." She said, and he watched as some of the tension released from her body, inching closer to forgiveness.

Maddie adjusted her fingers on the fretboard, and swiped the pick down the strings, looking up at Deacon to see if she'd gotten it right.

Deacon smiled, "You're getting so good, sweetie!" As soon as the word came out, Deacon froze, the endearment hanging in the air between them; it was the first time he'd ever called her anything like that. He looked at Maddie, "Is that…okay?" Deacon asked her, "That I call you that?"

Maddie shrugged, but she smiled, her face lighting up. Then she chuckled a little, "It's _way_ better than what my mom calls me."

Deacon laughed, "Oh yeah? What does your mom call you?" He picked his guitar up and started strumming it.

Maddie shook her head and crinkled her nose, "It's _so weird_." Maddie said, laughing a little, "She calls me '3D Baby.'"

Deacon abruptly stopped his idle strumming and stared at Maddie, "What?" He cleared his throat, "When… when did she start calling you that, Maddie?" His voice broke at the top of the question.

Maddie shrugged again, adjusting her fingers again on the guitar, "She's always called me that. From the day I was born, I think." Maddie strummed a chord, "Is this right?" She asked, looking at Deacon expectantly.

Deacon looked at her and smiled, "Yeah, sweetie, that's right."

He stared at her, watching her play, but his mind was in the past, reliving a memory from what seemed like a lifetime ago.

 _They were in their tiny kitchen, the heat of the morning already filling up the place so the air felt thick. They didn't have air, or heat in the winter for that matter. They always seemed to find ways of keeping warm, though; keeping cool in the summer was a bit more difficult. They were lucky to even have a refrigerator that worked. They didn't have much money, but Rayna had fixed their little apartment up so that potted plants lined the window sills and the entire place smelled like fresh laundry. The paint was chipped and the wallpaper in the bathroom was peeling, but Deacon had never been anywhere that felt more like a home._

 _Rayna pulled the milk out of the refrigerator and twisted the cap off, pouring some into a bowl. She grabbed a spoon, stuck it in the bowl, and slid it across the small counter to Deacon._

 _Cereal—specifically sugary, you-probably-shouldn't-eat-that cereal—was his guilty pleasure. He'd never been able to have cereal as a kid, it was a luxury his family couldn't afford, and the first time he and Rayna went grocery shopping, he'd loaded three boxes with various cartoon characters on them into the cart and raised his eyebrows at her. She'd just smiled, piling a box of Grape-nuts on top of his sugary mess._

 _Sometimes, he'd catch her with a bowl of_ his _cereal and tease her mercilessly, but she bought a box for him every time she went to the store._

 _That particular morning, he'd just opened a brand-new box of Dinersaurs, and he reached inside to pull out the little red and blue-lensed glasses that came with the box. He slid them over his nose, and stared at the back of the box—watching as the dinosaurs on the back popped out at him, waving his hand in front of the box, trying to swipe at the figures he knew weren't really where they appeared to be._

 _Rayna shook her head and laughed as she took the last bite of her toast. "You are such a kid sometimes, Deacon."_

 _He looked at her and grinned as he poured the cereal into the bowl, "You love that about me, though."_

 _She smiled, putting her saucer in the sink and moving to stand next to him. She reached out and ran her hand through his hair. "You know I do."_

 _Sitting on the barstool, he leaned into her touch. "Oh, wow, these 3D glasses really_ do _work."_

 _Rayna glanced down to find that he was staring at her chest, his hand creeping up to caress her through her shirt. He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and she reached out and slapped him on the arm. "You are such a teenage boy sometimes." She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling._

 _Deacon leaned over and kissed her breast through her shirt. "You love that about me, though."_

 _Rayna laughed and sighed, "Deacon Claybourne, there isn't a_ thing _about you I_ don't _love." She picked the cereal box up, scrunched the bag down, and then closed the box, "But when we have kids, we are_ not _letting them eat this garbage." She reached up and put the box in the cupboard over the refrigerator. Turning around, Rayna froze, realizing what she'd just said. Her eyes widened a bit._

 _They hadn't talked much about the future except to decide that they would both greet it together, whatever that meant._

 _Deacon pushed his 3D glasses up so they rested on top of his head, "Kids, huh?" He'd never thought about being a father, but Rayna Jaymes sure had a funny way of changing all of his nevers._

 _Rayna flushed, "I…I…just meant that…" Rayna stammered, looking anywhere in the kitchen but at Deacon. Her face was bright red, and she felt even hotter than she had a moment before, the embarrassment working its way through her._

 _Deacon stared at her for a moment, then he crunched his cereal and grinned, "What are we gonna name our first kid, Ray?"_

 _Rayna finally brought her eyes to meet his, relief flooding her face. She reached her hand out and dropped the 3D glasses resting on his head back over his eyes. "3D Baby," she said, shaking her head and smiling at him. She leaned down and kissed him gently on the lips._

 _Deacon scooped up another bite of cereal, "I like it." He laughed around his mouthful of cereal, and nodded, "3D baby it is."_

Maddie's frustrated sigh broke him from his reverie. "I'll _never_ get this!" She said, twisting her fingers as she tried to press the strings down.

Deacon smiled and shook his head, "You will." He made the shape on his fret-board, showing her, "But you have to be patient."

Maddie rolled her eyes and tried again, while Deacon marveled at the fact that he had a teenage daughter who rolled his eyes at him. It was something he never even knew he wanted.

An hour later, Deacon had dropped Maddie off at Talia's for a science project and he found his truck unexpectedly driving a familiar path; he headed up the drive punching in the gate code at the end. He was relieved to see it hadn't been changed.

He got out of his truck, and knocked on her door. It was quiet, but her car was outside. He felt his stomach tighten with worry when she didn't answer, and then he knocked again. When she answered the door, Deacon thought she looked tired in her jeans and loose-fitting t-shirt. _But still beautiful._

"Hey." She spoke quietly, "Is Maddie okay?" She asked, panic creeping into her voice.

He leaned against the side of her house, his arms crossed over his chest. He nodded, "Maddie's fine." He stared at her for a long moment, the silence heavy between them as Rayna waited for him to speak. His voice was a whisper when he finally managed to speak, thick with emotion, "3D baby?"

The tears came to Rayna's eyes immediately, trailing a course down her cheeks one by one. "Yeah," She nodded, "3D baby."

She held the door open and Deacon pushed himself up from the wall—as he crossed the threshold into the house she'd built without him, he felt the anger leave him; he felt something shift in into its place, and he was surprised to notice that it was a house-guest he was pleased to see this time, one who, it turned out, had never really left after all.

* * *

 _TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: I'm pleased to see everyone reacted so positively to '3D Baby.' That's actually the moment I built this story around, so I'm glad to see it seemingly worked in this context. Thank you all for your kind reviews, they are invaluable to providing inspiration to write these stories._

* * *

They were seated on her couch, silence hanging heavy between them. They hadn't spoken since he came inside, she couldn't think of what she should say, so she waited. She'd been doing a lot of waiting for him lately, which was a role reversal, she knew; but it was also the right thing this time, and she could be patient when she needed to be.

Deacon cleared his throat, "You should have told me."

Rayna didn't know if he was talking about calling Maddie 3D Baby or everything in general, but she figured it didn't really much matter.

"I know." She whispered as she pressed her head into the back of her couch. She didn't look at him; she closed her eyes, instead, "I know." The tears hadn't stopped falling since he'd spoken the secret nickname she had for their daughter. _Their daughter_. She opened her eyes to see him reach his hand out towards her; she was holding her breath waiting for his touch, but before his fingers reached her, he pulled his hand back, folding it in his lap.

His words from a few months ago immediately came back to her: _Is that why you didn't tell me before you came crawling into my bed, Rayna? Because you knew I'd never touch you again if I knew?_

Deacon closed his eyes, "Tell me." He spoke quietly, and she could tell he was trying not to cry.

She didn't have to ask what he meant; the story he wants is the story she's been keeping from him for all these years.

Rayna sighed, not entirely sure she was ready to walk down that path, but knowing that she couldn't avoid it any longer, "It was the night you asked me to marry you."

She looked at him then, watched him wince—he'd never been able to remember that night, but she knew he remembered the morning after. In fact, he'd spent over a decade doing nothing but remembering the morning after.

Her voice was unsteady, "You told me you wanted me to stop seeing Teddy, told me how much you loved me. You said _let's do this, baby_. Please, marry me." Rayna smiled, but it was sad, "You slipped the ring on my finger and told me you loved me." Her eyes were glassy with the memory, "I told you I loved you too, and then you kissed me. I felt so _happy._ Your eyes were clear. I felt like _this, this is what I've been waiting for my whole life_." Her words were thick with memory, "I remember thinking I was wrong all that time, that _it wasn't music_. It wasn't music that I wanted most. It was you." She closed her eyes and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "You kissed me _so_ gently, and then you leaned me back against the couch and took my clothes off. Told me I was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen, how you were going to spend the rest of your life proving it to me; I thought _I'll never forget how he's looking at me right now_. And then we made love on the floor, on that awful rug I hated. It was so tender." She opened her eyes and blinked back the tears, " _You_ were so tender. It was like the first time we ever… and I..." She trailed off, "I cried after. And you did."

Deacon breathed out, running a hand over his face. She'd never given him this before. She'd never told him what happened that night, no matter how many times he'd asked her—all he knew about it was that he'd asked her to marry him, she'd said yes, and he'd woken up in the middle of the night and started drinking again. He knew now why she hadn't told him—to keep the secret, but also, to avoid the pain. Watching her tell the story, it was clear how painful the memory was for her—how painful it would have been for him, too, all these years. It was hard enough knowing that he could have had her, that she had said yes to him, and he'd ruined it with a bottle, same way he had for years between them.

"We went to bed together. I fell asleep against your chest looking at your ring on my finger and I dreamt of the life we would have together." She swiped at the tears on her face, sniffling a little, "And then I woke up."

She didn't need to tell him that part of the story. He remembered that part all too well, no matter how many times he'd tried to forget.

 _Were you drunk last night when you asked me?_ He could never get that question out of his head. She knew he wasn't, she'd seen him drunk so many times by then and she could always tell, but her brain was playing catch up with the heartbreak that bottle on the coffee table dealt.

 _When I asked you what? What, babe?_ To this day, it was the most shameful question he'd ever asked. He knew it would be the most shameful question he'd ever ask.

He spent four years trying to get the sound of that ring hitting the hardwood out of his head, another nine pretending he'd succeeded; in truth, it was the only thing he ever heard in the quiet moments before sleep.

He knows now that they'd conceived Maddie with his ring on her finger, and he can't honestly say if that knowledge would have made it better or worse.

"Thank you." He whispered, running a hand through his hair, and he meant it. He'd spent years asking her to tell him what happened that night, years trying to get the memory back. Alcohol had taken a lot of things from him through the years but that night, he figured, was one of the worst. "Then what?"

She winced, "Then I stopped having my period. Then the strip on a home pregnancy test turned pink and I curled into a ball and cried for three hours." She closed her eyes again, not wanting to look at him for this part, "I told Teddy. And then I told him about our night at the cabin." She let out a breath in a small laugh, "He wasn't even _mad_. He just… dropped to one knee and proposed."

Deacon scoffed, "Figures." He shook his head, "Teddy was so ass over head in love with you he'd have done any damn thing to keep you."

Rayna opened her eyes and looked at him, crossing her arms across her chest as she raised her eyebrows, "Yeah, well. Some things change."

Deacon tilted his head to the side, "And some things don't." _He'd_ never fallen out of love with Rayna, not for a minute. Not even through all of this. He didn't realize that last part until he'd walked into her house a few minutes ago, "Were you loved?" He asked her, his voice quiet, "Did he love you well?"

"Deacon…" She narrowed her eyes at him, not sure where he was going with that line of questioning.

Deacon shifted his body on the couch so he was facing her, "I'm asking honestly, Rayna, I want to know. Did he love you like I couldn't back then?"

Rayna stared at him for a long moment and then gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head, "He loved me, Deacon. But it was never what I wanted." She swallowed the emotion welling up in her throat, "You know that." Her voice broke.

Deacon nodded, and then let it drop. He was not ready for that conversation, not yet anyway. "Tell me about the night she was born."

Rayna leaned her head back on the couch again, "It hurt." She said, laughing a little, "A _lot_. The contractions came like a damn freight train and I thought I was going to die." She turned to look at him, a small smile playing on her face, "I was never very good with pain." He smiled, he'd always known that about her, "I was screaming at _everyone_ until I got the epidural—the poor nurse almost cried after I cursed her out, the anesthesiologist too." She shook her head, "After the epidural I didn't feel much. Except fear. I felt the fear." Her smile faded, "I made everyone leave the room after it kicked in and I… I tried to call you. I made Bucky tell me where you were, where you were staying." She sighed, "Everyone kept trying to help, trying to make me feel better, and I just wanted…" The tears were in her voice and she shrugged, "I just wanted to hear your voice. So, I called you."

Deacon's eyes widened at her unexpected admission, "You did?" He couldn't even remember where he was that night, but he'd known Bucky had been keeping tabs on him. It never occurred to Deacon to ask.

She nodded, biting her lip, "You were at a motel in LA that night. I called and asked for you in between stupid Lamaze breaths. I'm pretty sure the attendant thought it was some other kind of breathing." She chuckled a little, "But he patched me through to your room." Her eyes grew sad again.

Deacon didn't speak, he could tell that there was more.

She fixed her gaze on her hands in her lap, "A woman answered, laughing, breathless." She gave a smile that looked more like a grimace, "When I asked for you…She said you, ah, couldn't come to the phone… that you were…" Rayna ran her hand through her hair, and cleared her throat, "You were… in the middle of something."

Deacon wiped his hand down his face, "Jesus, Rayna. I'm…" He trailed off, shaking his head. The revelation hit him like a ton of bricks. She'd needed him that night, and he hadn't been there. He'd been in some woman, instead.

Rayna pressed her lips together, "It's okay." She shook her head, shaking off the memory, "Anyway. I let everyone in after that and no one asked why I was crying… and then Maddie was born. Screaming at the top of her lungs, all red and angry. I kept thinking _it's like she knows_." She stared at a spot on the carpet, "I saw her and _I knew_. I knew what that paternity test would say. I held her against my chest, leaned down and whispered _'hi, 3D Baby, hi,'_ right into her little ear and she stopped crying, which is when I started again. But she just looked at me. Eight pounds two ounces of _us_."

Deacon gave a wan smile. His voice was small and sad, "Then she went home where she learned to call another man 'Daddy.'"

She stared at him for a moment. "I _am_ sorry." She finally said, turning her head to look at him. "I don't know if I've said that."

He shook his head, "You haven't."

She nodded once, "Well, I am." She wanted to reach out and touch his arm, but she wrung her hands together instead, "I know it doesn't make it better, but I'm sorry."

Deacon shrugged, a look of resignation settling over his face, "I didn't deserve to be a father, so I wasn't."

Rayna's mouth fell open, "Is that what you think?" When he didn't answer her, she turned to face him on the couch, tucking her legs up underneath her, "That's not…" She searched for the words, "I made a lot of decisions back then that I thought were the best for everyone. I thought it would be best for Maddie, best for me, and believe it or not, best for you."

"You didn't think I could be a father, Rayna." He looked at her hard, an unbearable sadness in his eyes.

The guilt crawled up her throat, the same way it had every day for the last thirteen years. But she had to ask the question, "Do you think you could have been?"

Without invitation, images of Beverly flashed through his mind—Beverly crying, Beverly huddled in a corner shivering in fear, Beverly with a black eye and bruises on her arms.

Deacon was not his father, but damn if he didn't hurt Rayna in a thousand different ways, damn if he didn't have that Claybourne blood running through his veins—he thought of the black eye he accidentally gave her when she was trying to wake him up, the way he yelled at her when he was drunk, the way he got in her face when they would argue, the infinite ways he let her down.

"I don't know." He admitted, shaking his head, "I don't know, Rayna." The tears spilled over his eyelids, and his voice caught, "I would have tried."

Rayna reached out and grabbed his hand in hers; his eyes darted down to where they touched and she was relieved when he didn't pull away. "I should have let you." She said, and her voice was so quiet he nearly had to lean in to hear her.

He turned his hand over in hers, and his fingers closed around her hand. He squeezed her hand and looked at her, giving a slight nod.

She stared at him, her stomach swirling as she ran her thumb over his knuckles. She didn't want to ask the question, but she had to know, even if the answer confirmed her worst fear. "Can you ever forgive me? I know you said you wouldn't, but…"

He looked at her, his lips pressed together as he thought, "I didn't think I could, Rayna, but…" He cleared his throat, "You forgave me for every single wrong thing I ever done to you, and god knows there were a lot of them." He pressed his head back into the couch, "You were trying to protect yourself. You were trying to protect our daughter, to protect our 3D Baby." He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her hand.

Rayna was crying again, but she smiled through the tears, "I told you I thought of you every single day, Deacon. Every single day."

He nodded, "I know that now." His lips grazed over her knuckles again, "And I know I can get there now." He dropped her hand, "I'm not there yet, but… I can get there. I know that now, too." His words were heavy, but there was a relief under them.

Rayna nodded, but her face grew serious, "I don't know if I deserve your forgiveness, Deacon. I…took Maddie from you." It was the first time she'd said it like that to anyone but herself, and as it left her lips she realized how awful it sounds, the truth of it.

Deacon sighed, "Rayna, I've spent a lot of time thinking about what you deserve, and I always knew it was more than me." He reached out and cupped her face, "Hell, it still is." His thumb traced her jawline, "I'm sorry, too. For putting us in that position, for not being someone you could count on. In case I haven't said it." He dropped his hand to his lap, "You were the _only_ thing I ever wanted."

She stared at him, her eyes brimming with something he couldn't look at, something he couldn't bring himself to see just then, "Deacon…"

Deacon looked away, glancing down at his watch, "I, ah, have to go." He stood from the couch and walked towards the door before she could stop him, before he could stop himself. As he pulled it open, he turned to look at her, "Thank you." He nodded, and then closed the door behind him.

Rayna wrapped her arms around her knees on the couch and hugged her legs to her body, the silence today sounded more like forgiveness than she could ever have allowed herself to hope for.

* * *

 _TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

The meeting hadn't started yet, and there were people milling about talking in hushed tones. Some were laughing, some were miserable, some looked downright hungover; meetings were always a mixed bag. Someone who was obviously on refreshment duty bustled through the front door of the church and set a box of donuts and carton of coffee on the table. Deacon sat in his chair staring at the wall, debating whether to get up and get a donut. He shook his head. You could always tell the newbies, they were always signing up for one task or another, throwing themselves headlong into the program. Deacon had never been like that. Even when someone told him the age-old motto: _You come in here with two things: an attitude and a sobriety date; if one doesn't change, the other will._ Deacon reckoned he was just born to be a bit surly.

"You're supposed to call your sponsor when you're in trouble, not hide from him." Coleman pulled a metal folding chair up next to him and it screeched across the tile.

Deacon rolled his eyes, well aware that he had been doing exactly that, avoiding Coleman in every possible way imaginable. He'd been coming to the 4 o'clock meeting at St. Mary's, ignoring his texts and not returning any of his daily calls. "Yeah, well." Deacon said, turning his head to look at him. He crossed his arms over his chest, "Cut me loose?" He raised his eyebrows.

Coleman sighed heavily, his booming voice quiet yet still echoing in the room, "Yeah." He shook his head.

Deacon narrowed his eyes, "You thought it would be a good idea to tell the only woman I ever loved to _cut me loose_? The woman who, by the way, was pregnant with my child?"

Coleman turned in his chair to better face Deacon, "I didn't know she was pregnant at the time, Deacon, and I never knew it was yours… but we wanted you to get better."

Deacon scoffed, his anger making its way into his words, "And you thought _that_ was the way to do it?"

Coleman leaned his head forward, keeping his voice low, "I hate to point this technicality out, but it seems that _was_ the way. You've been sober ever since."

Deacon let out a huff of air through his nose, "Yeah, and I've been damn miserable ever since, too."

Coleman shrugged, leaning back into his chair and turning to face the podium, "Maybe you haven't ever learned to practice the principles in all of your affairs."

Deacon laughed bitterly, "Oh, cut the AA crap, Coleman, I'm sick of listening to it. I ain't listening to it anymore." Deacon said, his voice rising a little higher than he meant for it to.

A wry smile came over Coleman's face, "Deacon, you're sitting in an AA meeting."

Deacon smirked, "That's only because I can't sit in a bar." He narrowed his eyes, " _You_ told Rayna to cut me loose and she just moved on; I lost _everything I ever wanted_. And you want to tell me I was _better_ for it?" Deacon shook his head, "After all she and I'd been through together, one word from you and she just let me go." His tone was angry.

Coleman sighed, pursing his lips together; he fixed Deacon with a stare, "Deacon, it _wasn't_ easy for her," He said, "She struggled with it a lot." He crossed his arms over his chest, "Look, if you want to blame anyone for her walking away from you, you should probably go ahead and lay that one down on me." Coleman cleared his throat, "She would call me whenever she…" He trailed off, "Well, let's just say I was her sponsor for a while, too."

"Don't," Deacon jutted his finger out at him, "Stop acting like Rayna and I are some kind of addiction to each other, Coleman."

Coleman fixed him with a knowing gaze, "Where'd you go when you found out?"

Deacon closed his eyes for a moment, and then opened them again, "I went to a bar, okay. I went to a bar and I held some whiskey up to my lips and I damn near took a drink."

Coleman spun in his chair, a mirthless chuckle falling from his lips, "Exactly."

Deacon gritted his teeth, "Rayna was _not_ an addiction to me, and I fucking mean it, you better stop saying that she was."

Coleman rolled his eyes, "Oh, yeah, you could have just given her up back then?"

Deacon's eyes were sad, "No, man." He shook his head, "She was the one thing that could restore me to sanity."

"Deacon…" Coleman uncrossed his arms, "That's _exactly_ the kind of shit I'm talking about, man. Talking about Rayna like she's your higher power, like she's your second step?" He shook his head, "It's no wonder you found yourself in a bar."

Deacon smirked, his voice rising again, "Okay, you want to spit AA crap at me, Coleman? How about this one? _Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it._ " Deacon leaned into Coleman's face, "That's step 10, right? But it's real funny, 'cause in this whole conversation I ain't heard you admit that what you did was wrong." Deacon scoffed, "Want to talk about practicing the principles in all your affairs?" Deacon roughly pushed a metal folding chair in front of him and stood up, heading out the door of St. Mary's, his gait angry.

Coleman followed him, speaking only when they were down the concrete steps in front of the church; his voice boomed, intending to stop Deacon in his tracks, "Okay, Deacon, fine. I was wrong. I shouldn't have told Rayna to cut you loose, I shouldn't have interfered with that. But your relationship was volatile. You two together are _volatile_." He shook his head, "I tried to tell you, but just like today, man, you would never listen to me. You loved her too much to let her go." He shrugged, his smile sad, "So, I did what I thought might actually work. I went to her, and _she_ listened. She loved you too much to hold on."

Deacon spun on his heels, his hands going to his hips, "Yeah, you _were_ wrong." He was leaning into Coleman's face, his voice on the verge of a yell, "Rayna was the best damn thing that ever happened to me, the only person to ever _love me_. And I'm not an idiot. I know my drinking was the thing that took her away from me, but you damn sure didn't help." He sighed, his hands falling down to his sides, "I was a wreck for years over that, Coleman, for _years_ , and you let me believe she just decided to do it all on her own. You never told me _my sponsor_ told her it was how she could save me." He sighed, "That it was the only way to save me."

Coleman shrugged, "I was just trying to do what was best for you, Deacon."

"Well, thanks, I guess." Deacon turned to walk away, "You know, I'm so damn sick of everyone telling me that, but especially you, Coleman. You knew what Rayna was to me." He pointed his finger in his face, " _You knew_ , and you did it anyway." He smiled, but it was mean; he turned and started walking back to his truck, "Guess you should probably take a few minutes to make a searching and moral inventory of yourself, Coleman." He called over his shoulder as he rounded the back of his truck.

. . .

Maddie strummed the final chord of the song and turned to look at Deacon. He was beaming at her, and she smiled shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a way that reminded him immediately of Rayna.

"Was that right?" She asked, taking the guitar off her lap and setting it on the floor so it leaned up against the couch.

"Was that right?" Deacon repeated her question back to her, still grinning, "Maddie, that was perfect. You're getting seriously good, sweetie."

Maddie laughed, "Thank you. I'm just glad I didn't get my guitar skills from my mom."

Deacon's smile faltered at Maddie's mention of Rayna. His anger had disappeared, but he was still conflicted any time he thought of her. Truthfully, he'd been conflicted for years, but never quite in this way before.

Deacon laughed, determined to hide his feelings from Maddie, "Yeah, she holds a guitar and you think she's trying to strangle it."

Maddie laughed, but then looked at him, reading him. He should have known better than to try to get anything past her; she was her mother's daughter, after all, "You're still mad at her, aren't you?" When he didn't answer, she folded her arms over her chest, "It's okay, I'm still mad at her, too." She sighed, and tears started pooling in her eyes, "I don't think I want to be anymore, though."

Deacon put his guitar down, "I'm not mad at her anymore, sweetie. Least, not like I was." Deacon sighed, "And you don't have to be either, sweetie." He reached his hand out and set it on Maddie's arm, still not entirely comfortable with being physical with her, wanting to comfort her but not sure how much comfort she wanted him to give. His voice was gentle, "You can forgive her if you want."

Maddie turned to look at him then, her brown eyes watering as a tear slid down her cheek, "I want to," She said, nodding. Her voice was a whisper, and she surprised Deacon by hurtling herself into his arms, burying her head into his chest. "I really want to." She said over sobs against his t-shirt, "I just love her so much."

Deacon's heart felt full, holding Maddie in his arms. He brushed his hand over her hair, his other arm wrapped around her tightly, "I know, sweetie." Under his words was what he didn't say: _me too_.

Maddie sighed, her tears calming a bit, "I just… _how could she do this_? She kept us apart."

Deacon lifted Maddie away from him gently by her arms, "Sweetie, I want you to listen to me. Your Mama? She deserved better than me back then, okay?" He smoothed his hands down her arms, "You did, too." Maddie's tears came again, "I know how she went about things was wrong, and you and I both know she knows that, too. But she did the wrong thing for the right reasons. She did the wrong thing because…" Deacon reached up to wipe one of Maddie's tears away, "She loved us. She loves you so much, Maddie."

Maddie nodded, then leaned in to hug him again, "Thanks, Dad." She whispered, trying the word out. "I… love you."

Deacon felt his heart swell at her unexpected word and he wrapped both of his arms tightly around her, "I love you too, sweet girl." He spoke around his tears, "I love you, too."

Maddie pulled back from him, her voice was small and sweet, "Do you still love her?" She asked, her big brown eyes searching his, "Even after everything she did?"

Deacon tilted his head to the side—he thought about Rayna, how she had loved him unconditionally for years. Even when they weren't together romantically, she had loved him, and he'd known it. He'd always been sure of it, even when he wasn't sure of much else.

He'd done so many things to her while they were together; he'd made the most amends to her when he was working his program, and she'd loved him through every single one of them. He felt suddenly ashamed, then, at how he'd left her on her own through this. At how quickly he'd just shut her out. She'd needed someone, he knew, and she'd been alone in a way he promised her she'd never have to be.

Still, he couldn't answer the question—not to himself, and not to his daughter, "Maddie…" He sighed, and then cleared his throat, "Let's just finish up our lesson, okay?"

She sniffled and nodded, "Okay," She agreed, her voice soft. She picked up her guitar and put it in her lap, "But I think you still do."

Deacon smiled, and then pulled his guitar back into his lap, winking at her. He plucked a string, "I have a show tomorrow night at the Bluebird. You should come if it's okay with your Mama."

Positioning her fingers on the guitar, Maddie smiled, "I'd love that!" She said, running the pick down the strings.

Deacon smiled, and they ran through the song he'd just taught her. As the final chords rang out, there was a soft knock at the door. Deacon propped his guitar on a stand and headed to the door. Opening it, he found Rayna, her hair backlit by the fading light of the sun. His breath left him for a moment at the sight of her.

"Hey, Rayna," He said, propping the door open.

"Hey." She returned his smile and stood in the doorway. Deacon couldn't help but notice there was something different about her these days, a sadness that hung over her somehow; he could see it, even in her smile. He didn't think anyone else could, but he could read her like a book. _Apparently not well enough_ , the part of his mind that was still bitter reminded him.

Maddie flung herself up from the couch and ran to where Rayna stood; Maddie threw her arms around Rayna's waist, and squeezed. "I missed you, mom." She said, hugging her tight.

Deacon watched as Rayna stepped back from the force of the hug, he watched as shock and surprise flashed over her features. Rayna wrapped her arms around Maddie, holding her tightly. Deacon saw the tears then, the emotion settling on her face, "I missed you too, sweet girl." Rayna cried silently as she held her daughter tight. Deacon smiled as relief washed over her face. He knew she was worried she'd never get this back.

Maddie pulled away, crying too. She laughed a little, and then smiled, "Deacon has a show tomorrow night at the Bluebird; can I go watch him?" She asked, her voice excited.

Rayna nodded, "Sure, sweet girl. I'll drop you off and then your Dad and Daphne can pick you up, sound good?"

Maddie bit her lip and nodded enthusiastically.

Rayna laughed, "Alright, go get your stuff packed up." When Maddie turned, Rayna leaned against the doorframe and cleared her throat, "So, how'd it go?" She brought a hand up to wipe her eye makeup from her bottom lid.

"She's getting _really_ good." He bit back a smile, "Much better than some people I know."

Rayna laughed softly and rolled her eyes a bit, "Hey, I never had to be good. I always had you." She said, and then she flushed, the undercurrent of her words clear. The past tense. She always _had_ him—the question hung in the air between them: _would she ever again_? She smiled at him sadly, "I just meant…"

Deacon gave a small smile of his own, "It's okay, I know what you meant."

Maddie came back with her guitar packed up, "Bye, Dad." She said, hugging him briefly before heading out the door.

"Bye, sweetie." Deacon said with a small wave, but he was looking at Rayna.

Rayna clapped a hand over her mouth and the tears were back in her eyes, "Dad?" She said, dropping her hand from her mouth, her voice a whisper for all the emotion it held.

Deacon nodded, smiling, "Yeah, she just started it today. Is that…" He trailed off, his smile faltering, "Is that okay?"

Rayna let out a small breath of air, "Yes," She said, nodding, "Of course that's okay. That's…" She trailed off, and he could tell she was deciding how much to say, "That's what I always dreamed of."

"Rayna…" He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"389 days." She whispered.

He raised his eyebrows at her, "What?"

She smiled, "389 days is exactly how long I cried myself to sleep wishing for that, wishing that it was your ring on my finger." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "I stopped crying after that, but I never stopped wishing for it. Not ever." She cleared her throat, "So yes. It's okay." She stood upright, "Thank you for… whatever you said to her today."

Deacon smiled, his eyes glassy, "I just nudged her in a direction she already wanted to go."

Rayna slid her sunglasses over her eyes, "Well. Thank you." She said, smiling softly at him as she turned on her heel and walked back to her SUV.

"You're welcome," Deacon whispered as he watched her get in the car and start it up. As she drove away, he closed the door; he walked over to his couch, pulled out a legal pad and started writing.

Pressing his back into the couch as his pen scrawled along the paper he thought about what he'd said to Rayna: _I just nudged her in a direction she already wanted to go_. He sighed, running a hand down his face as the thought occurred to him: _the same direction I want to go_.


	8. Chapter 8

Rayna stood staring at herself in the mirror, her eyes tracing over the plane of her face, tracking the small lines one by one. She sighed as she picked her makeup brush up from the counter, dabbled it in a rosy blush, and swept the brush across her cheekbones. She felt like she'd aged more in these last few months than she had in the last three years. She dabbed her finger into concealer and dotted it with her index finger under her eye, dabbing at it until it was blended in. She could still see the dark circles, but they seemed less black, more purple with her handiwork. She shrugged and zipped up her makeup case, sliding her hair out of the loose ponytail she'd kept it in and fluffing it with her fingers. She sighed as her hair fell around her shoulders in soft waves.

Maddie peered her head around the corner, watching her mom. "I wish I were as pretty as you." She said, her small voice still bouncing off the tile walls of the bathroom.

Rayna turned to look at her and smiled, " _You_ are the most beautiful girl in the world."

Maddie looked down, pushing her glasses up on her nose, "No, I'm not." She shook her head.

Rayna stepped to the doorway and smoothed her hand down her daughter's face. "Don't do that, Maddie. Please don't do that." Rayna sighed, knowing it was futile, wanting to try anyway, "You are beautiful, inside and out. I want you to believe that, because it's true." She gave her a gentle smile, "But I also don't _ever_ want you to let your worth be determined by what you _think_ you see in the mirror or by what other people see when they look at you, okay?" She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of Maddie's head, "You, sweet girl, are _beautiful_. No matter what. Okay?"

Maddie bit her lip, and then broke into a small grin, "Okay." She wrapped her arms around her mom's waist, hugging her, "You're beautiful too, Mom."

Rayna smiled as she squeezed her daughter's shoulders, feeling unexpected emotion swell inside her. It had been such a long time since anyone had told her that. She didn't realize quite how long it had been until she heard it. "Thank you." She whispered, closing her eyes.

Maddie sighed contentedly—she'd missed this, being with her mother. She'd spent so much time angry with her for things that couldn't be undone and it felt so nice to let that go, to be her daughter again.

Maddie pulled back to look at Rayna.

"You should come to Deacon's thing at the Bluebird tonight." She said, her brown eyes peering up at Rayna excitedly, the light from the bathroom reflecting off the lenses of her glasses. "He told me that he's been writing a lot of new material lately."

Rayna had no doubt _that_ was true. Deacon had always been a man of relatively few words, but put a guitar in his hand and he'd always have something to say, whether you wanted to hear it or not. It was the way he worked through his emotions, for better or for worse; she could only imagine the types of songs he'd been writing over these months.

Rayna let out a small laugh and shook her head; "That's very sweet, and I'd _love_ to spend more time with you, but I don't think Deacon would want me there tonight, Maddie."

Maddie looked crestfallen, "I think he would, Mom." She sighed, reaching into her back pocket for her phone, "I can text him and ask him if it's okay…"

Rayna smiled gently at her, "I don't think that's necessarily the best idea right now. If he wanted me there, I think he would have asked me." She put her hand on Maddie's shoulder, "He invited you, though." She smiled, taking one last look in the mirror, "And I'm happy to take you. You ready?"

Maddie smiled, the disappointment evident in her eyes; she nodded, sliding her phone back in her pocket.

Pulling up to the Bluebird, Rayna felt an odd mixture of butterflies and sadness tangling in her stomach. She had so much history at this little café. More than that, she and Deacon had so much history at this little café. It was where they'd cut their teeth, together. The thought made her nostalgic, and it had been a very long time since she longed for the past as it was instead of what it could have been.

Rayna stared at the door to the Bluebird as Maddie pushed the car door open; before closing it, Maddie turned to look at Rayna.

"You sure, mom?" She asked, her voice filled with hope.

Rayna looked at Maddie and smiled, nodding lightly, "I'm sure, sweet girl." She put her hands back on the steering wheel, "Your dad & Daphne will be here to pick you up for your time at his house, okay?"

Maddie nodded, "Okay." She started to close the door and then opened it back up, sticking her head through the little crack; her eyes were shining, "I love you, mommy." She whispered, her voice shy and quiet.

"I love you too, 3D Baby." Rayna replied, and grinned when Maddie rolled her eyes and shut the door.

Rayna watched until Maddie was safely inside the Bluebird. Then, with a heavy sigh, and her grip tight on the steering wheel, Rayna put her SUV in reverse, trying to clear her mind of the cobwebs of memory as she drove away from twenty years of history.

. . .

Deacon was standing by the small stage, his eyes scanning the crowd for someone he never thought he'd scan a crowd for: his daughter. When he saw her brown hair bobbing through the people, he smiled to himself, quelling an unexpected small wave of disappointment that he didn't see coppery red hair trailing behind her.

 _Of course she's not here_ , he thought to himself, _you didn't invite her_ , _and you made it pretty clear that you weren't going to._

As Maddie got closer to the front of the crowd, Deacon raised his hand to call her over; she smiled when she saw him and started weaving through the people faster.

"Deacon!" She said when she saw him, hugging him, "Hi!"

He laughed, and hugged her back, wondering if he would ever get used to the revelation of holding his daughter in his arms, "Hi! I'm so glad you're here."

Maddie grinned, pulling back from him, "Me too!" She looked around at the audience gathering, "Are you nervous?" She asked, her eyes still darting around. "I would be."

Deacon chuckled, "A little bit, yeah." He shrugged, "Not as nervous as I used to be, but there's always a bit of nerves whenever I perform. Never quite goes away completely, unfortunately."

Maddie nodded, "I get that."

Deacon led her to the nearest table, where a little 'reserved' sign was placed. "This is your seat." He smiled as she sat down and looked up at him. He ran a hand over his neck, and then sat down next to her, leaning across the table toward her. "Sweetie, there's uh…" He trailed off, "There's something I want to say to you, something I been wanting to say to you."

Maddie looked at him, confusion and worry settling in her eyes, "Okay…" She was suddenly worried he was going to tell her he didn't want to see her anymore, that he was sorry he'd ever found out about her. Nothing he'd done had made that thought process a rational one, but she couldn't help it. She looked at him and braced herself.

"I want to say I'm sorry." At Maddie's furrowed brow, he continued, "I'm sorry I… didn't know." He said, staring at her, "I'm sorry I couldn't tell by looking at you that you were my…" He looked around and lowered his voice, "That you were mine." He sighed, "I don't know if you resent me for that, or blame me, but… I'm sorry." You were supposed to know your child blind, and he hadn't. He resented himself for that.

Tears formed behind Maddie's eyes, and a couple of them fell. She swiped at them, "Deacon… I don't resent you for that, and I don't blame you. I don't, I promise." She sighed; she still didn't understand everything that happened back then, and she thought she never would, but she didn't blame him for not knowing, "You couldn't have known because… no one ever told you. No one ever told us." For the first time since she'd found out, she said it without venom; Deacon finally heard it without venom.

He smiled and reached a hand out to her cheek, "Okay." He nodded, "I just…"

Maddie smiled, "I know." She said, "I love you." She whispered quietly, though she knew no one else could hear her over the din of the crowd.

"I love you too, sweetie," He said as the crowd began to take their seats. Deacon winked at her as the lights dimmed, "Showtime."

. . .

Three miles. Rayna made it three miles before she found herself making an illegal U-turn and heading back to the Bluebird. She sat in her car for five minutes, turning over her shoulder to stare at the door trying to convince herself to turn back around and drive home. Deacon hadn't invited her to the Bluebird to hear him play, and there was a reason for that.

But Maddie's words from earlier kept coming back to her: _he's been writing a lot of new material lately_. She couldn't get those words out of her mind—she knew what that material was about, and selfishly she wanted to hear it, even if he didn't necessarily want her to hear it. She felt ashamed of that, but she'd also spent the last months feeling incredibly lonely, and she thought connecting to his music might help her ease through some of that.

Rayna finally decided to stop pretending she wasn't going to go in and made her way across the tiny parking lot. Walking up to the door, she peeked through it and saw that Deacon had already started playing and was doing a relatively fast number by the way he was moving around. She smiled; she'd always loved the way he moved when he had a guitar strapped to him. Opening the door, she hunched down, smiling and waving briefly at the hostess who smiled and gave a shy "Hi, Rayna."

Rayna found a place behind a tall gentleman leaning one shoulder against the wall in the back. From her position, she could peer over his shoulder, but she still remained relatively well hidden. She felt sneaky, and more than a little bit guilty, but as she watched Deacon on the stage, she couldn't will herself to turn around and walk out of the café. She sighed; she'd been doing _so well_ with boundaries lately.

As the final notes of the song he'd been playing rang out, Deacon pulled a stool over in front of the microphone stand and positioned his acoustic guitar across his lap. The crowd was still applauding for his first song and Deacon smiled, giving a little embarrassed chuckle that Rayna had always been particularly fond of. "Thank you," He said into the microphone, his voice gravelly, and suddenly Rayna was standing in this room twenty years ago, watching her boyfriend with the sexy voice that made her weak in the knees sing on stage. Back then, she never imagined she'd be hiding from him in the same café, desperate to get a tiny glimpse of what he held in his heart—back then, he'd poured it out to her. The same way she'd done to him.

Shaking her head, she willed herself back to the present moment, still watching him on stage. Age had been so kind to him, and as she glanced around the crowd she recognized that she clearly wasn't the only woman who thought so.

As the applause died down, Deacon leaned into the microphone, "Thank you. Wanted to start it off with an old one." He grabbed a capo from a nearby stand and put it on the neck of his guitar, "I've been going through it a bit these past few months, and I've been writing a lot of new material about it. Some of it's crap, some of it ain't." Deacon chuckled, the low rumble coming through the microphone, and the audience chuckled right along with him, "The music's always there, isn't it? Even when we wish it wasn't. Can bring us up, can pull us right back down. Don't always realize the power it has over you; don't always realize it's a _part of you_." A ripple burst through the crowd, murmurs of agreement spreading through the café as people nodded their heads. Deacon's eyes grew serious, "I got someone like that too." He pulled his mouth away from the mic and cleared his throat, "Anyway. This is a brand new one called Hell and Back."

Rayna felt her breath hitch in her throat as the soft, slow, sad sound of Deacon's guitar floated through the Bluebird. _I got someone like that too_. She was still holding that breath when he finally began to sing, his voice rough and raw and still one of the prettiest things she'd ever heard.

 _You say you're sorry for the things you done  
Baby, I'm sorry you thought you had to run  
Sorry for every slam should've been an open door  
But those lies I still ain't sure how to forgive you for_

Rayna let her breath out, sighing softly as her stomach turned over on itself. She couldn't take her eyes off Deacon—she never had been able to, really. Not when he was performing and not in general, but watching him now felt different. She felt like a voyeur, invading his head and his heart without his permission. She felt like she should leave, but her feet were stuck to the floor as she watched him, his eyes crinkling at their sides, emotion finding its way into his voice as he hit the chorus.

 _We've been to hell and back, we faded in and out of blue  
We've seen reds brighter than a thousand blazing suns,  
Kept words like bullets chambered in our heart-shaped guns,  
We've made as much love as we've made mistakes, it's true  
We've been to hell and back before, baby, me and you_

Rayna felt her throat burning; the emotion crawled up into her eyes and they began to burn too. Deacon's eyes were closed, his fingers working the guitar, his voice raw with emotion.

 _The past is always between us like a worn-out song  
Like the fading embers of a chorus gone on too long  
Always thought the future would be between us too  
Lay itself down, a bridge over all the wrong I done to you_

As Deacon moved into the second rendition of the chorus, Rayna felt herself start to cry—felt the tears roll down her cheeks, but she didn't move to wipe them away. She didn't trust herself to move in the intensity of this moment, scared of what would happen if she did.

 _You were never like the whiskey in my glass,  
You were a cure for the ruin of my decay,  
You're still every single song I'll ever play_

Deacon's eyes were still closed, and Rayna felt her heart constrict, felt it fluttering in her chest with the pain of it. When Deacon opened his eyes to sing the final verse, he was staring right at her, his eyes burning into hers. His words worked their way into her heart, slowed it down until she swore she couldn't say whether or not it was even beating anymore.

 _I want all the colors between us to come back,  
Reds, yellows, and blues… hell can keep the black  
I been trying to tell myself that it ain't true,  
But, baby, I wanna find my way back to you  
I'm gonna find my way right back to you_

Deacon didn't take his eyes off of her even as the crowd, stunned momentarily into silence by his performance broke out in a spattering of applause. It wasn't until the applause grew louder that he finally broke eye contact with her. Spellbound no more, Rayna turned around and walked out of the Bluebird, the cool night air whipping around her face. She was still crying as she made her way across the street, perching herself in a coffee shop, her brain trying to process all of the emotions flooding through her body.

She wondered if she'd done the right thing, going to the Bluebird tonight. Deacon hadn't looked mad when he'd seen her, but she still felt worried—she'd been giving him his space, and this felt like an invasion of it, at least a little bit. As she sipped her latte, she hoped he wouldn't see it like that—especially since it was clear he had seen her at the end of that song.

She shouldn't have been surprised by that, she knew—he'd always been an expert at finding her in a crowd.

She shuddered a little as she thought of the way his eyes bored into hers as he sang the last few lines of the song; his eyes had always been the most expressive part of him, and she could see worlds in them tonight as he sang—as he sang _to her_. Thinking about it now, she felt hope bloom in her chest for the first time in months—she tried to push it down, but it wouldn't budge. She was scared to let it flourish, scared that it would be extinguished the minute she saw him again.

 _She missed him_. She'd spent years missing him, but it had been different since he found out about Maddie. When she thought about it, she'd gone to the Bluebird tonight because she hoped it would be music that brought them together again the same way it had so many years ago.

She looked at her watch, tossed her latte, and then headed back across the street; when she got there, she watched as the last stragglers filed out of the Bluebird. She leaned up against the front window of the barbershop next door, her back pressing into the cool glass as she hid in the shadows.

She knew Maddie was gone now; Teddy was like clockwork when it came to picking her up from events, especially when Deacon happened to be at those events. Rayna was scrolling idly through her phone when she heard Deacon's laughter, and she turned to see him as he walked out of the Bluebird, a smile on his face.

 _God, she'd missed his laugh_. _God, she'd missed his smile._

He turned his head to the side and caught her staring at him. When he saw her, he slowed down and the two people he was with walked ahead, "Thanks for coming," Deacon said, lifting his hand in a wave. The two people, a man and a woman, obviously fans, looked at Rayna, smiled and nodded, and then walked to their car.

Deacon slowly walked toward her, stopping when he was halfway between her and the door of the Bluebird. She pushed herself off of the barbershop glass and smiled gently at him.

"Hey." She said, waving a little.

"Hey." He nodded, giving her a crooked half smile.

She hadn't seen that smile in a long time, so even as it disappeared, she felt the hope bloom in her chest a bit heavier.

She cleared her throat, taking a few steps toward him, "I, uh... sorry." She said, waving her hand at the door of the Bluebird, "I didn't mean to… I just…"

Deacon shifted his guitar case to his other hand, "You don't have to apologize for watching me play, Rayna." He said, tilting his head to the side.

She nodded awkwardly, "Okay, I just… wasn't sure. That song…" She let out a little breath, "Well… It was a real pretty song."

Deacon smiled, recalling the words he'd said to her on his birthday, "Thanks." He nodded, and shifted his weight on his feet. When the silence stayed between them, he cleared his throat, "Well," He ran his free hand over the back of his neck, "Have a good night, Rayna." He smiled a little, and then turned on his heel, heading for his truck.

Rayna felt her stomach flip as she watched his back, a slight panic washing over her—she was so very tired of watching him walk away. She thought about going home to her big empty house, the sound of silence chasing her down the halls and she just couldn't bear it; not tonight, not after stepping into the Bluebird and reliving those memories.

"Deacon?" She called out to him. He stopped and turned around, looking at her. She bit her lip, "Would you… maybe… want to come by the house?" At his look, she rushed on, "Just to… talk? Watch a movie? I don't know…"

Deacon sighed, his hand gripping the guitar case tighter. "I don't think I should, Rayna." His face looked conflicted.

Rayna nodded once, "Right." She felt the tears come again; she was so tired of crying, "Right, of course. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked…"

Deacon nodded, and turned to walk again, "Night."

Rayna let out a small sigh, "I just don't want to be alone again tonight." She said the words so quietly under her breath that she wasn't even sure she'd said them at all until she saw Deacon stop in his tracks.

There was something about her voice, something about the broken way she said it, something about promises he made her a very long time ago that had him whispering, "I'll meet you at your place in an hour." Before he quietly walked to his truck, tucked his guitar in the back, and started the engine.

As Rayna watched him drive away, she brought her hand to her heart—the hope, it seemed, had found its way there.

* * *

 _A/N: The "song" (that is a term used very loosely and in quotation marks) used here is my 'own.' I considered looking for something already written, but nothing felt right…. So. In Deacon's words, "I understand it is ridiculous," but oh well. I also considered not writing the lyrics and just having Rayna 'hear' them, but that didn't feel right either… so, the end result is that you get a terrible song in this chapter – you're welcome!_


	9. Chapter 9

Rayna Jaymes was talking to herself. Having a full-on conversation, out loud, as she walked around the house tidying up, fluffing pillows, wiping invisible flecks of dust from various surfaces. It wasn't something that she usually did—she usually kept the conversations in her head, at least. But she was so nervous as she watched the digital clock on the oven that she couldn't quite help herself. She took a napkin and wiped the counter down and then shook her head, tossing the napkin into the trash. Teddy used to do that—she remembered the fight they had about him running for mayor, when he'd told her she'd settled for him; he was wiping the dirty counter with a _napkin_ and she wanted to rip it out of his hands and scream _why are you cleaning with a dry napkin_? And now here she was, doing the same exact thing.

"Calm down, Rayna." She sighed into the kitchen as she opened the refrigerator to check on her refreshment situation. "Oh, thank goodness," She whispered as she saw the near-full pitcher of sweet tea she'd made earlier. She shook her head as she walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, trying to look casual even though she knew that no one could see her; she shook her head, "Girl, you act like you're sixteen and this is the first time you've been alone with a boy." She laughed at herself, then. _Deacon Claybourne had_ never _been a boy_.

She felt nervous, and excited, and scared—she hadn't meant to invite him over, not really. But the thought of being alone tonight just didn't appeal to her. She'd been spending so much of her time alone these days; Tandy was out of town, Teddy certainly wasn't an option, the girls were back and forth between school trips and Teddy's house. It turned out that she didn't really have many friends, and the best one she had hadn't been speaking to her unless it was about their daughter. There was a terrifying moment last week when she'd nearly called Juliette Barnes just to have some company—she'd shoved her phone down to the bottom of her purse at the very last second, shuddering at even having had the thought in the first place. If she were going to reach out to anyone in a moment of desperation, she was glad it was Deacon instead of Juliette, even after everything.

She knew that she shouldn't read too much into his agreeing to come over, but she couldn't help it—it felt like a step in the right direction, a step in the direction that would lead them to healing. Suddenly, Marvin Gaye's _Sexual Healing_ popped into her head. Rayna flushed and then shook her head, unsure of where exactly that thought had come from—except, of course, the fact that it had been a rather long time for her, and the fact that sex had never really been far from her mind when she thought about Deacon.

As though the universe was reading her mind, a soft knock fell upon her door.

She padded over to the door and opened it, smiling softly when she saw him there leaning casually against the doorframe. He looked _sexy_.

"Hey," She said, holding the door so he could come in.

He nodded once as he slid past her through the doorway, "Hey." He said, stepping into the foyer before shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Come on in," She said, leading him into the living room. She'd changed before he arrived, deciding to wear sweatpants and a loose-fitting t-shirt. She'd agonized for quite some time over what would give off the best vibe, trying to avoid anything that might scream 'I'm trying to force things here'; eventually, she settled on the outfit she had on, deciding that it did not say much of anything except 'I want to be comfortable.'

She sat down on one end of the couch and he followed her, taking a seat at the opposite end. He tapped his fingers on the arm of the couch as silence that could not be described as companionable descended around them.

Rayna bit her lip, hating the awkwardness that had settled itself in between them—it was something new, something she hadn't felt with him, not ever. "Do you want to watch a movie?" She asked, pressing her eyes closed against the onslaught of embarrassment she felt at hearing her own voice in her ears—she sounded like a teenager, so unsure.

Deacon cleared his throat, "I don't really feel much in a movie mood, Rayna." He sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"Right," She said, nodding. She brought her legs up in front of her, wrapping her arms around her knees and hugging them to her body, "I shouldn't have invited you over here, I'm sorry." She said, shaking her head. "I don't know what I was thinking. Guess I wasn't, really." She cleared her throat, "I'm surprised you came."

Deacon stilled his hand on the arm of the couch, "I came because I heard something in your voice that sounded like you needed…" He trailed off, "Me." He finished, staring at a bowl of fruit on the coffee table. Her need for him had always been his undoing. Even now, sitting awkwardly before him in sweatpants and a t-shirt, she was _beautiful_ , and he'd never been able to run from what her need did to him.

 _I do_. The thought ran through her head; for a split second, she considered saying it—but she wasn't sure what can of worms that would open, so she just offered him a small smile and a nod and said, "Thanks. I appreciate it."

Deacon drummed his fingers again, and then turned to look at her. Cocking his head to the side, his eyes were soft, "Maddie told me about Teddy." At her furrowed brow, Deacon clarified, "His affair."

Rayna let a breath out, and then sucked one in, the topic coming at her out of the blue, "Oh." She smoothed her hand over her hair, pulling it back from her face. She shrugged, "Yeah."

Deacon sighed, shifting his weight on the couch to face her, "Why didn't you tell me?" He crossed his arms over his chest, "I mean… before."

Rayna looked at him—she wondered briefly if this would always be how it was between them. If there would always be 'before' Deacon knew about Maddie, and 'after' Deacon knew about Maddie—if the line in the sand would be there forever, if any talking they ever did would only be in reference to that. She wondered how much things had changed between them and if the damage was irreparable. Maybe they'd never again have a conversation where this secret, this lie wasn't a cloud hanging directly above.

She shrugged again, "I guess I just didn't really want anyone to know." She dropped her legs down and tucked them underneath herself so she was facing him with her back leaned up against the arm of the couch, "Probably because I… I don't know, brought it on myself, I guess."

Deacon's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "What do you mean you brought it on yourself?"

She smiled sadly, closing her eyes and leaning the side of her head against the back of the couch, "I mean… I got what I had coming, I guess."

Deacon let out a small huff of air, "Oh, come on." He shook his head, sounding slightly angry. His eyebrows stayed up, this time in disbelief, "You didn't deserve _that_ , Rayna."

Rayna lifted her head, tilted it to the side, and considered him, "Didn't I?"

Deacon scoffed, "As what? Punishment?" Deacon shook his head, "Atonement?" At her silence, he ran his hand through his hair, "You know, I didn't remember you having such a perverted sense of justice." He shook his head again, "Come on, Rayna, you didn't deserve that." His voice was gentle, the anger she'd heard a moment ago was gone. His voice was a bit sad now, if she thought about it.

Rayna nodded, "I might have." She stared at him, a bit lost in thought, "If for no other reason than the fact that I spent a twelve year marriage in l—" She stopped herself, her eyes widening a bit before she shook her head.

"In… what?" Deacon asked, his eyes boring into her. "You spent a twelve year marriage in what?"

Rayna offered him a wry smile, "I spent a twelve year marriage…" She dropped her eyes to the floor, "In love with someone else." Her voice was a whisper as she counted the loops in the carpet under the coffee table, "That's _exactly_ what I did."

Deacon set his feet firmly on her floor and hunched over, his elbows pressing into his knees, his palms pressing into the side of his head, "God," He said, his voice rising a bit, "Why'd you do it, Rayna?" He asked, and he knew he didn't have to clarify what he meant. She was sitting here tonight telling him everything he'd ever dreamed of her saying to him, and yet this _lie_ she told was standing in the way, ruining everything.

"Because I was scared." She offered, simply. "I was so scared." She leaned her head against the couch again, but she watched him as he sat there hunched over, his head in his hands, "I was pregnant, and I was scared."

"Scared… of me?" He asked, his voice barely an edgy whisper.

Rayna cleared her throat, feeling the nerves settle into her stomach—she didn't want to tell him this; she'd never wanted to tell him this, "A little bit, yeah." She watched him go stock-still, "When I came up to the cabin to tell you, Tandy was with me, and she was whispering in my ear—she said 'do you know what could happen to you or to that baby?'" She shrugged, sadness invading her voice, "And the thing is… I _didn't_ know. Not really."

Deacon let a measured breath go, the emotion moving through his body, "I never hurt you, Rayna." He turned his head in his hands to look at her then.

Rayna gave a wan smile, "Not on purpose, you didn't. Of course you didn't. But you and I both know that I had to have my makeup team cover at least a few black eyes and bruises." She sighed, "And when you found out I was dating Teddy, you came over and you broke every single piece of furniture in my apartment."

Deacon leaned back on the couch, smoothing his hands over his jeans, "I didn't mean to… scare you."

Rayna nodded, "I know you didn't, Deacon." Her voice was heavy, and she was trying not to cry, "But, you did." She whispered, "I sat on my couch just watching you rage, trying to make myself as small and still as possible. I watched you curse and yell and break every single thing and I wondered for a moment…" She trailed off, the emotion getting the better of her. She'd protected him from this for a very long time.

Deacon looked at her, his face screwed up in pain, "Wondered _what_ , Rayna?" He asked, not sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"I wondered…" She inhaled sharply, preparing herself to say what had to come next, "I wondered if maybe I was next." She didn't want to look at him, but she couldn't take her eyes from his face; she watched as the pain overtook his features, as they faded between horror and disbelief.

"Christ, Rayna… I didn't…" He didn't know how to finish that sentence. 'I didn't know,' 'I didn't remember,' either one would be accurate, but either way it didn't matter. He'd made her feel like he might hurt her, like he might actually lay a hand on her in anger—the only woman he'd ever loved, and he'd frightened her, and even worse, he'd frightened her _like that_. "I'm so _fucking_ sorry." He shook his head, "That's not enough, but I am."

Rayna nodded, "I know." She cleared her throat, trying to keep the tears out, "But, when Tandy said that to me, that was the only thing going through my head; I just kept hearing the furniture crash, kept hearing glass break, and suddenly the same fear that was there that night came back and I chose wrong." She reached her hand out to him, but pulled it back, "I need you to know that I know that."

Deacon nodded, the anguish subsiding a bit; the nausea that came with learning the truth about the ways she'd feared him back then stayed, gnawing on his stomach. She feared him back then in the exact same way he had always feared himself, and that realization broke his heart. He'd never wanted that for her—he'd thought he could be different for her. And he had been now, all these years, but back then he hadn't known if he could, and she hadn't either.

They'd both made mistakes, he saw that now.

He looked at her, his eyes searching hers, "If I had come to the phone that night—the night Maddie was born, when you called me and I was…" He pressed his eyes shut, recalling a memory he didn't even really have. _Fucking some nameless woman in a fleabag motel in a futile attempt to get over you_ , his brain screamed the vulgarity at him and he shook his head, opening his eyes to look at her again, "Would you have told me?"

Rayna swallowed, "I don't know." She told him the truth, "The same way you can't know how you would have been if I'd told you." She sighed, "I _wanted_ to tell you, but I don't know." She looked at him, a pained expression on her face, "I can't know."

Deacon nodded, accepting her answer. "But I been sober for a long time, right?" He shifted his weight again to face her, bringing one leg up on the couch, "Why didn't you tell me, you know, at _some point_?"

Rayna pressed her eyes shut and brought her fingers to her temple. She massaged her temple and then dropped her hands. She opened her eyes to look at him, "At a certain point, not telling you became about a lot of different things." She took a steadying breath, "It selfishly became about not telling you because I thought you'd never speak to me again when you found out." She let the breath go, "It became about not telling you because I thought Maddie would never speak to me again when she found out." She tilted her head, "It became about not wanting to tear down the only life and reality she'd ever known." She looked away from him, "And it became about keeping a promise I made to Teddy."

Deacon's mouth fell slightly open as memories came flooding back to him—hot nights in tiny apartments, whispered promises and vows, "What about the promises you made to _me,_ Rayna?" His voice held an edge of anger, "Was it so easy to let _those_ promises go?"

Rayna brought her gaze to his, a flash of anger sparking in her eyes before she let it go, "I spent years keeping those promises to you, Deacon—years loving you through every single thing; every drunken phone call, every drunk tank pick up, every time you got in my face, every time you said hurtful things, every hotel room you _almost_ went in." Her voice was sad, "I kept those promises—and yeah, I did, I broke a few. Eventually." Her gaze was sad, "But, then, so did you, right?"

Deacon thought about the promises he made to her—all the times he swore he would keep his anger in check, swore he would put the bottle down, swore we would do better, _be better_. He thought about all the times he'd broken her heart, and all the times she'd welcomed him back with open arms, let him crawl back in her bed like nothing had happened, ran her hand in circles over his back softly singing his mother's song to him until he fell asleep, how she would be there when he woke up, how she would hold him as he cried 'I'm sorry' until his voice was raw.

"Yeah." He said, whispering. "But _this_ … what you did? It's…" He trailed off, searching for the right word even as he knew he would never find it. Because the more he learned, the more he remembered, he wasn't so sure anymore that it _was_.

Rayna considered him, "Is it?" She sighed, running her hand through her hair, "I'm not sure we can measure it like that, not really." She shifted her legs, pulling them to the side of her, "I know what I did was wrong, and I _am_ sorry for it, Deacon." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, " _So_ sorry."

"I know." Deacon said, the words coming out on a sigh, "I know. I just…" He trailed off again, shaking his head. He didn't even know what to say, he didn't know what words should come next, he didn't know what words _could_ come next.

The silence fell between them again, and Rayna rested her head back on the couch closing her eyes. She smiled, "Do you know _why_ I named Maddie what I did?" She opened her eyes and looked at him.

Deacon raised his eyebrows, "Madison?" At her nod, he smiled and laughed a little, "I always thought it was because you love the movie Splash."

Rayna chuckled, "I do. But that's not why." She smiled again, "Remember when I was sixteen and Daddy kicked me out of the house?"

Deacon nodded, it hadn't been very long since they'd been down that particular memory lane, "Of course."

Rayna smiled, "I came over to your place." Her voice was thick with memory, "I was _so upset_. I'd been crying for hours. We'd never gotten along, me and Daddy, but we'd never fought like _that_ before—I was so scared." She shook her head, "I was scared of being alone—of being on my own, of what would come next."

Deacon smiled, his memory recalling a sniffling Rayna, her eyes red with tears, still so beautiful to him, "I remember."

She laughed a little, her eyes glassy, "You had that big map of the U.S. posted on your wall with little pins in it for every place you'd ever been." She smiled, "You wiped my tears, took my hand, and led me over to the map. And then you told me that everything would be okay, remember?"

Deacon's voice was a whisper, "Because we had each other."

Rayna nodded once, "Right. Because we had each other… and the whole world at our feet. And then, as I was standing in front of that big map, you told me to close my eyes." Her eyes were slightly faraway, reliving the memory as it unfolded, "You spun me around like I was a kid playing pin the tail on the donkey and I laughed for the first time in hours. You directed me toward the map, and with your hand over my eyes you told me to point at a place, and wherever I picked, you said… _that_ would be where we would start our life together, just you and me. _That_ was where we would be _happy_." She chuckled, "So I did. I stuck my finger out and pointed to the map. You took your hand away and when I opened my eyes, my finger was right smack-dab on…"

"Madison, Wisconsin." Deacon breathed out, the tears welling in his eyes.

Rayna nodded, "Madison, Wisconsin."

Deacon edged closer to her on the couch, "Ray," He whispered, and then he felt something in himself break—he felt the last bit of resentment gripping his heart release itself, and he felt warmth flood in, "Oh, Ray…" He reached out and cupped the side of her face.

She leaned in to his touch, his words floating into her ears. _Ray_. He hadn't called her that since he'd found out about Maddie. She brought her hand up to her face and covered his hand with hers—she looked into his eyes, read the look there, and suddenly the tears came, fast and hard. Without warning, she was crying so hard she couldn't breathe, her eyes pressed tightly shut as the sobs wracked her body.

"Ray?" Deacon furrowed his brow and moved in closer to her, grasping the other side of her face with his other hand, "What's wrong? What is it?"

She opened her eyes to look at him, "I just…" She shook her head, "I thought you'd never look at me like that again." Her voice was full of awe, as thought the only truth she'd known had finally come back to her.

Deacon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, "Look at you like what, Ray?" He whispered, his thumbs caressing the sides of her face, "Look at you like… I love you? Like I'm _in love_ with you?"

Rayna nodded her head, the movement almost imperceptible. She bit her lip, looking at him with a mixture of sadness, relief, and hope.

"The thing is…" Deacon said, his gaze running over her face, "I do. _I am_." He leaned in closer, and when he spoke his breath was hot on her lips, "I _do_ love you, no matter how hard I've tried to convince myself that I don't. I've loved you for the better half of my life, and well, I just don't see that changing any time soon."

"I lov—" She started to say, but suddenly his mouth was on hers.

He kissed her tenderly, one hand moving to the back of her head where it threaded in her hair, the other settling itself on the side of her neck. He kissed her deeply, his tongue parting her lips and sliding inside her mouth, running over her tongue. She moaned a little against his mouth at the taste of him, and he did the same.

He pulled back, "I'm sorry," He said it against her lips. "For everything."

"Me too." She whispered back, her hand dancing up his back until it landed in the hair at the nape of his neck.

And then Deaon smiled, leaning his head in again as he captured her mouth with his. He kissed her thoroughly, his tongue exploring hers, his lips moving against her lips—when she sighed against his mouth, he deepened the kiss, leaning her back against the armrest of the couch. They kissed for a long while before hands started roaming, before clothes started shedding, before breaths started coming in soft pants.

When she was finally naked underneath him, Deacon positioned himself at her entrance—as he slid himself slowly into her, he watched as her face change, watched as her eyes fluttered closed before she opened them again, staring straight at him.

As he began to move inside of her, she whispered his name over and over again, and he'd never heard another word spoken with such reverence, with such _love_.

He took his time with her, moving rhythmically until he knew she was on the edge, ready to fall over. His hands caressed her body, moved gently over her breasts as he leaned down to kiss her, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth before he pulled back to look at her—"I love you, baby," He whispered as he slid himself slowly in and out of her, "I love you," He said again, leaning down to take her nipple in his mouth. When he did, he felt her contract around him, heard her moan as she writhed under him, her back arching up as she tumbled over the edge of ecstasy. Pulling up to watch her face as pleasure rippled through her, he followed her over the edge, spilling into her with her sweet name on his lips.

When they came back down, Deacon slipped out of her and she adjusted herself so she was lying on her side facing him. He was on his side, propped up on his elbow, watching her. Her chest was rising and falling, her skin flushed, and there were tears on her face. He reached up to wipe one away, and she did the same, catching one of his tears with her thumb. And the silence settled between them, this time joined by a tenderness they'd thought they might never get back.

Deacon dropped his head to the arm of the couch, and then ran his finger along her eyebrow, his eyes skating over her body—"You're so damn beautiful," He murmured, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. His hand wrapped around her head easing her toward him and she nuzzled into his chest, breathing him in.

She kissed the skin of his chest and snuggled into him, his arm draped gently over her as they held each other.

They fell asleep like that on the impossibly small couch: _l_ _overs_ with their naked bodies pressed against one another; finally, no more secrets or lies between them, just their heartbeats and the hard-won truth.

* * *

The End

* * *

 _The Coming of Wisdom With Time_

 _Though leaves are many, the root is one;_  
 _Through all the lying days of my youth_  
 _I swayed my leaves and flowers in the sun;_  
 _Now I may wither into the truth._

 _-W.B. Yeats_

* * *

 _A/N: So glad to know that so many of you weren't rolling your eyes at my 'lyrics' from the last chapter; I'm definitely very happy about that._

 _And so, we've arrived at the end of this one. Thank you all for your kind reviews as we made our way through this story! They were (and always are) very, very much appreciated. This was a fun one to write, and I'm so glad you all took the time to go on this little AU what-if journey with me; I can only hope I did them justice._


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